Stripped
by ReignOnMyParade
Summary: Club Evolution is now under new management under The Shield. These three men have vices & are barely able to keep the strip club afloat. When their top-earning performer decides to go rogue, their rivals the Bullet Club take an interest. What happens when she suddenly goes missing? What happens when these rival clubs turn L.A. into a war zone? Seth/OC/Roman, OC/Kenny Omega AU.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm fuckin' dyin' out here Corey! You can't play nothin' better?! No Cardi? No Nicki?!"

"You know the rules, Lola. New management, new music."

Lola rolled her eyes and turned away from the elevated booth where the DJ continued to play some non-descript slow jam. Corey Graves was usually a decent DJ, but he's been less-than-spectacular since the handover of the club.

Despite the darkness of the club, she was able to see clearly that there was only a handful of men present. Men with their guts brazenly hanging over their beltline, glistening bald spots at the crowns of their heads, eyes that were filled with sadness and desperation: The Regulars. From the club's opening to close, these men watched intently from their posts at the various round tables scattered about the stage

The money they had was not limitless, and so they held onto their bills tightly, watching hungrily as their favorite women gyrated against silver poles or writhed on the black floors in faux ecstasy. Beautiful bodies snaked around the notes of the songs, their curves pulsing so sensually, so enticingly that finally one of the regulars would tuck a sweat-soaked bill into the garter of a dancer. It would be a long game, but most of the girls were okay with it, always repeating the mantra: "At least it wasn't a free show."

Lola Jeanine Blanc was one of the few women who did not repeat that mantra. She actually had another mantra she repeated in the locker room "Less than 50 _is_ a free show."

"How about a dance, Lola?" She looked down from her perch beside the Corey's booth. Her sparkling platform heels were eye-level with an old balding man. The reflective sparkles shone and scattered across the man's balding spot. His weary eyes were hopeful, looking up at the statuesque woman with a bill in one hand, and the other hand conspicuously adjusting his dad-jeans.

She flinched at the sight of the decrepit man, and snarled down at him. From his view though, he couldn't see her disgusted expression. The patron was too focused on her long, smooth, terra-cotta stilts that were her legs, leading up to her sparkling costume.

That night she donned her favorite 1920's Hollywood starlet get-up. A silver sparkling bodysuit that left little to the imagination, paired with her favorite platinum blonde short bob wig and a thick diamond choker. The lightness of her costume contrasted with the deep, reddish-brown of her skin. Red lips and a painted-on beauty mark completed her ensemble.

"A dance? From _who_?" A bit of the dancer's southern drawl crept out.

"You, silly girl!" His papercut-thin lips stretched back into a smile that made Lola want to shower. His pale skin was tinted a bright pink under the lights, and he reminded Lola of a goblin, only one kick away from death.

"And is that a _twenty_ in your hand?" She raised her dark brows, fighting not to laugh.

He looked at the bill in his hand and back up at the woman, not understanding why Lola looked so bemused. Corey shook his head behind her, a knowing grin on his lips as he ran a hand through his perfected pompadour.

"Yeah, it's a twenty. The sign over there says twenty for a lap dance, it's always been that way."

"Okay sweetie." She squatted down, sinking closer to the man's level. "Let me break it down for you: I don't hop off this stage for anything less than a fifty. But considering how dead it is tonight, I'm not getting down for less than a Benjamin. So, you can keep walking or pony up."

"B-But the sign-" The man began to point to the white board beside the entrance.

"Honey, do it say anything about Lola B. on that sign? No. That's cause a dance from Lola B. ain't worth a twenty."

"Let the guy be, Lol, he just wants a dance. If you don't want him, give him to Sasha or someone." Corey called from the booth.

"Sasha?" The old man mused for a moment, scanning the dark club. His bushy brows raised in excitement when his eyes caught the pin-straight purple locks of a slender woman across the stage. "Oh! That's the other mulatto girl, right?"

" _Mulatto_?" Lola's features morphed into a terrifying scowl. Her dark eyes narrowed as her jaw twitched from the pressure of clenching it. The man took one instinctive step back. "Did this pasty-ass George Costanza lookin' motherfucker just call me fuckin _mulatto_?"

The dancer kicked off her platform pumps and hopped down from the stage in one swift motion. "I might not hop off the stage for a twenty, but I'll hop off to kick someone's ass!" She charged for the man, who had turned to walk away. Her manicured claws dug into the collar of his button up shirt and with one forceful yank she sent him propelling backwards. He fell to the ground in a satisfying thud.

"Oh shit." Corey muttered under his breath as he ripped off his headphones and hopped over his booth. He rushed to Lola and immediately fastened her arms behind her. She began to kick at the man, but Corey took a large stride back, pulling the hysterical woman with him.

"You lucky he holdin' me back! You lucky he holdin' me back!"

"Alright, let's cool down. Come on." Corey cooed in her ear as he positioned himself between her and the man. He nudged Lola away from the customer on the ground. He then stretched his heavily inked arms wide to block any attempts for another lunge from the fiery woman.

"And what the fuck is going on here?!" A man's voice came from behind Lola. Without turning, she knew who was behind her. She could picture the man with his leather jacket and wide eyes taking in the scene. She turned around and was proven right. Dean Ambrose stood there exactly as she pictured him, his messy dirty blonde hair curled haphazardly across his forehead, his lips pulled into a lop-sided smile, he was the image of smugness. "You know, Lola it's a _strip_ club, not a beat-the-shit out of our customers club."

"Clever, Dean. Real clever." She adjusted the top half of her body suit, hoping not to give any on-lookers a show they didn't pay for.

"Alright, you naughty girl, time to see the principal." Dean grabbed her forearm and nodded to Corey, signaling for him to console the customer on the ground. He pushed her in front of him and herded her into the even darker hallway in the back. The red lamps overhead made the space seem even smaller than it was. Despite this, Lola knew her way to the office.

She stood before the large black door and crossed her arms over her chest. A cheap brass plate that read "MANAGEMENT" sat at her eye-level. She glanced behind her shoulder and raised a perfectly waxed brow expectantly.

"You gonna open the door for a lady?" She taunted.

She practically heard Dean roll his eyes behind her as he reached forward and pushed the black door open. The sudden exposure to the bright fluorescent room hurt the woman's eyes. She covered her face with her hands instinctively before squinting through them and slowly adjusting to the brightness. The eye pain was one of the reasons Lola preferred working night shifts. When she was done, it would usually still be dark outside instead of the searing pain of daylight in morning shifts.

After a few moments, she was finally able to see the room. She was surprised the small windowless office was in a clean state. Usually the drawers were open, papers and folders haphazardly peeking from within. That would be coupled with paper balls littered the ground, and a plate or two of food left on a chair or the small couch next to the desk. Dean wasn't at the desk that week, so someone must have cleaned up.

Upon entry, Lola was pleasantly surprised that she was able to get a clear view of the centerpiece of the room. She enjoyed the sight, his inky black hair slicked back into a high bun, brown eyes trained on the papers scattered before him on the cheap metal desk, amber-toned, muscular arms shuffling through the papers. He didn't glance up from his work when Lola and Dean entered the surprisingly immaculate office.

"Whoever it is, and whatever it is, I'm very busy. Can't deal with it right now." Roman muttered as he flipped open a folder on the desk.

"You might want to deal with her man, cause no one else is going to be able to talk sense into her." Dean said, reaching into his pocket for a stick of gum. He kicked his habit of smoking not too long ago, and Lola always saw the man gnawing on gum since then. She preferred it when Dean smoked, it was less loud.

"And I'll knock the sense _outta_ you if you don't stop talkin' about me like I ain't here!" She snapped, giving Dean a vexing look.

Roman sighed heavily and dropped the folder in his large hands when he recognized the sharp tone. His body slumped, as if he were exhausted. He lifted his head for the first time since his visitors entered. His gaze met Lola's and he suddenly felt as if someone were kicking him when he was down.

"What? What did you do?"

"I caught her getting carried off by Graves. She knocked a customer to the ground and was about to kick his ass." Dean chimed in quickly before Lola had a chance to open her mouth.

"Really? Caroline, this is like the second time this month!" The large man threw his hands in the air, he was completely at a loss.

"You really wanna use my _government_? Cause I can use yours too _Leati_." Lola crossed her arms and cast a challenging glare across the desk.

"Sorry, _Lola._ " He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Regardless, you can't be beating on our clientele. There are regulars who keep this place afloat. We don't need the drama."

"Keep this place afloat? Are you kidding me? This place has been falling apart since it went from being 'Evolution' to 'The Shield'." She plopped down onto the worn brown leather couch beside the desk and stretched her long legs along the cushions. "Stupid ass name for a strip club, by the way. That's probably why people stopped coming."

"It's not a stupid name!" Dean exclaimed, striding over to the couch. He swiped her feet off of the couch to make room for himself. "It makes sense in a larger context. There's the Bullet Club, and then there's us, The Shield."

Lola shook her head slowly, not entirely following his logic.

" _Shield_ against _bullets_ … They're our rivals. So, we block them…" Dean's sentence trailed away with his interest in convincing the uninspired Lola. He shrugged and looked away.

"Anyway… The regulars are stingy, racist bastards that sit around for free shows. Their money isn't keeping this place afloat. This place is sinking, and fast."

"Racist? The regulars aren't racists, they're harmless. And they always pay for at least one dance before they all leave." Roman snorted.

"Tell that to that _George Costanza lookin goblin_ out there. He out here calling me and Sasha 'Mulattos'. Fuck outta here." She sucked her teeth.

"Is this true?" Roman asked Dean.

Dean shrugged.

"Yes! I don't pop off for no reason, Ro, you know that!" She shrieked.

Roman's expression tightened, he pressed his lips into a thin line and subtly clenched his fists. "Dean, you mind finding the guy and making sure he's kicked out? Get his name and picture, we'll make sure he's not allowed back."

Dean nodded and pressed himself off of the couch to leave the room. He closed the door behind him as he left, something Roman was hoping wouldn't happen. There was only so much he could take of Lola.

"It's taken care of. You happy now?" Roman gestured to the door Dean just left through. "Now can you promise stop fighting and get back to work?" He sounded like an exhausted father talking to his rebellious child. But Roman had been through similar conversations with her plenty of times before. He wanted the scantily-clad woman to leave the office hastily. Not only did he have to get back to the finances, but he hated being alone with his ex. Especially at work.

"Ro, it's a Saturday night, I've made less than 200."

"Well we all have bad nights, Lola, you really can't expect Joe-Schmo to make it rain every weekend."

"Joe-Schmo used to pay my rent. He ain't here no more. Whoever out there can't even pay for my nails. You need to change it up, baby. Get some wings, change the music, something."

"Do you know how much it would cost to get a kitchen in here?!" He boomed, before quickly retracting his temper. He cleared his throat and continued "The music is fine, we can't keep buying songs on iTunes every time a new one comes out. It racks up over time. I know you think money's no object, but someone's gotta budget around here."

"iTunes? This fool did not just say iTunes." She muttered under her breath. "You got Corey out there on iTunes, payin' a dollar per song? Boy, have you heard of Spotify? I don't even know why— You know what? "

She paused and took a deep breath, a trick that she seldom used, but Roman had taught her a while ago when she felt herself losing her temper. "I'm going home. No one is out there, and unless Joe Schmo is rollin' up in the next two minutes, I've got better ways to spend my time."

With that, the woman stood and quickly went for the door.

"Hold up. Lola, you are _not_ walking out on me like this." Roman stood from his chair, ready to stop her from leaving. "You've still got 5 hours on the clock, it's not even midnight yet."

"Ro, I'm taking the night off. Its best for everybody, Customers don't get hurt, I don't have to waste my time, and you get to run the club without _me_ in it." Her voice softened only slightly. "And we both know you'd rather me be far away from you anyways. So, I'll see you next Friday. Goodnight Ro."

Roman could hear the hurt in her voice, and for a brief moment felt like reaching out to her. His hand slowly lowered when he realized she had already made her hasty exit. With a quick shake of his head he remembered why he left the woman and sat down again in the desk. He owed her nothing, and sympathy was the last thing he was willing to give her.

He returned his focus back to the pile of papers on his desk. Row after row of numbers and computations riddled the sheets. To anyone else, it may have been dizzying, but the large man had a penchant for math when he was in school. He preferred pen and paper, and knew little about using computers for his calculations, unlike most of his peers. It had taken him years to finally get a smartphone and even then, he hated using it. He loved being able to apply his skills to the real world through finance. His parents of course anticipated he become a consultant or broker once he graduated from Georgia Tech. They were solemnly disappointed when they found out that their son had become one-third owner of a strip club in Los Angeles.

His thick brows furrowed when he saw finally completed a long string of addition from the last 5 months. Apparently, someone had taken over 280 thousand out in total from the club's main account since it had been handed down from Hunter and the rest of Evolution. He checked the withdrawal points and noticed they were all from the same bank in Redondo Beach.

Then it Clicked.

 _Seth._

* * *

"Where are you going babe?" Alexa Bliss's tinny voice called from behind Lola as she tied her laces on the bench in the dingy locker room.

"I am taking the night off. This place is killing me, I need _real_ money. Like it used to be."

Lola turned to see the smaller blonde woman sliding into her tiny black leather shorts. Her pixie face piqued with curiosity when she heard Lola's response. " _Real_ money, huh?" She let out a short chuckle "Well, I had a friend who joined an escorting agency in Vegas. She was making six figures last time I saw her. She'd only been working a year."

Lola stuffed her blonde wig into her duffel bag and ruffled her hand through her thick dark coils. Her hair bounced into place, just grazing her shoulders. "You mean, your friend was _trappin'_."

"No! Totally different. They gotta take you on dates and stuff, not sketchy at all. Her agency has got the girls all covered. They screen every guy they're set up with." Alexa picked at the hot pink ends of her hair for a moment while she checked herself out in the mirror. "Anyway, just thought I'd throw it out there. Might be worth checking out." She waved goodbye before practically skipping out of the locker room.

Lola grabbed her phone and duffel from the bench and made her way to the back exit. She entertained Alexa's suggestion, and opened a tab on Google and made her preliminary search:

 _Escort agencies in L.A._


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of heavy clunks from chunky heels plodded across the grease-slicked linoleum. Lola's cream-colored pumps expertly navigated the grease slicks that greeted her at the entrance of her studio apartment. Her pink, glossed lips formed a slight scowl as she was reminded of her feeble attempt at frying chicken three nights prior.

Lola liked to think she was not sentimental. But after walking out of her shift at The Shield on Saturday night, she felt the urge to go home. Home, to Lola, was not the dusty, unkempt, outdated studio she took an uber to from work. Home, the one she longed for that night, was Charlotte, North Carolina. Home was the symphony of humming fans blowing a slightly uncomfortable breeze through the humid Summer air. Her mind lingered on the deep honey of her mother's voice humming in her pristine, but humble, beige kitchen. The unmistakable crackle of chicken in a heavy skillet pan joined in to the vivid memory, only to be upstaged by the mouth-watering smell of her mother's fried delicacy. Lola practically felt her legs swinging back and forth at the small wooden table, her seven-year-old lips puckering and smacking in anticipation of the heavenly crispy chicken skin.

Surrounded by her vivid memory of a simpler time, Lola found herself wanting to recreate the scene in her own studio in Los Angeles. After milling aimlessly around a late-night supermarket, she collected the ingredients she thought would recreate her memory. But upon arrival to her home, she was faced with one embarrassing, crippling fact: she didn't know the first thing about frying chicken. Lola knew nothing about cooking. In fact, her seafoam-green stove had been so rarely used that it was the only thing in her studio that was relatively clean. She often used the stovetop as an extra space to place her wig-adorned Styrofoam mannequin heads.

It didn't take long for Lola to become frustrated with her attempts at making her mother's chicken. And only after unsuccessfully binding the flour to the chicken did she find that one burner was defunct on the stove. When she lifted her mother's heavy cast iron skillet, glops of oil splattered across the linoleum below. And with a quick smacking of her teeth, she turned on her heel and resolved to have sleep for dinner. She dropped melodramatically on the unmade futon only a few steps away from her tiny kitchen space, ending the night in a disgraceful defeat.

Lola shook her head and stepped over the oil slick before tossing her duffel bag in a corner near her futon. She didn't know what possessed her to try frying chicken three nights ago. The only thing she knew was that there was a nagging sense of uncertainty that followed her from Roman's office to her home. Maybe the food was a distraction.

It clearly didn't work.

Things were still raw with Roman, and Lola was reminded of that uncomfortable friction every time she had to step into that club. Her recent search for a new job did keep her mind off of the relationship for a while, but the nagging uncertainty came back again. And it stayed for the last three days.

Lola swiped her laptop off the small, haphazard kitchen table that hid in the corner of the equally haphazard studio. A tinny clattering echoed through the small apartment as a number of empty lipstick tubes fell from the overflowing table. She ignored the added mess to her floor and situated herself on her futon, ready to continue her job hunt. Her screen illuminated brightly, revealing a browser riddled with tabs, all a variation of each other; Catwalk Model Escort Agency, Diamond Dollies Escort Service, Platinum Diamond Escorts, the tabs went on and on.

The sound of furiously aggressive typing would only be interrupted by the light staccato of tapping on her mousepad. Lola sat in the dimly-lit room, hunched over her laptop with the bright harsh light of the screen illuminating her tired face. This was a routine for Lola, applying for every agency she could find with a promising starting rate. Her eyes became glazed as she typed out her bra size for the umpteenth time. Her eyelids became heavy as her manicured nails slowly relaxed across the black keys of her laptop. The pattering of rain outside her window began to lull her to sleep.

Just as her lids began to flutter, and her breathing became heavy, a soft, deliberate knocking roused Lola from nearly falling asleep. Her brows furrowed as she scanned the dimly-lit studio. She winced as the knocking became a little louder. With an eyeroll she turned away from the door and hid under her fuzzy pink comforter. Lola had no idea who could be at her door, but she wasn't in any mood to find out.

The knocking grew louder, only followed by the nasal voice that Lola knew belonged only to Seth Rollins. "Lola. You home?"

Lola cursed under her breath, and threw her cover away from her body and sluggishly made her way to the door to unlock it.

Seth stood in her doorway, the inky black waves of his hair dripped onto his broad shoulders, soaking into his dark hoodie. Dark brown eyes cast an upward glance toward an exhausted Lola. His handsome and rugged features were graced with a bashful, almost shameful expression. His strong hands clutched onto two large wet duffel bags packed to capacity.

"Seth? What are you doing here?" Lola croaked, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"I uh, was just in the neighborhood." Seth cracked a cheeky grin. His thick, dark beard sparkled with rain droplets in the light of her hallway. "You couldn't tell?"

"You and I both know damn well that you ain't strollin' through this neighborhood this time of night with all that shit." She gestured to the large dripping bags in his hands.

"You gonna let me in? Or you just gonna let me stand out here looking like a wet dog?" He dropped a bag and smoothly snaked a cold, damp arm around Lola's warm waist.

"Aye, aye, aye. You need to calm down with all that." Lola took a step back to dodge his touch, but couldn't help but crack a small smile. "Why you here? For real."

Seth bowed his head and let out a quick snort before dropping his arm in dejection.

"I need your help Lol."

"With what?" She crossed her arms "I ain't got any money Seth, you work at the Shield, you know I ain't making nothin'."

"It's… It's not money. Seriously Lola, can I come in?" He cast a glance upwards, and Lola felt as if a wave of warmth pulsed through her. She knew he was trying to charm his way into her home, she was used to him using that look to weaken her defenses.

She sighed and stepped aside, allowing him into her home. He followed quickly behind her, closing the door and gently setting his bags on her greasy floor. She stood across from him, arms still crossed as she gave him an expectant look.

"So, what is it?" She yawned again, her impatience growing with every moment that she wasn't in her futon drifting off to sleep.

Seth stepped forward to close the gap between them, but he lost his balance on the slick floor. His muscled arms wildly waved about before landing on Lola's narrow shoulders. He steadied himself and chuckled as he slowly shuffled closer to Lola.

"You really need to clean this place up a bit."

She heaved a deep sigh and raised an expectant eyebrow. He was stalling, she could tell. She decided to let the conversation between them cease, only for the sound of heavy rain to fill the silence. He cleared his throat before filling the silence.

"Alright, fine… I just need a place to crash for a while."

"Okay, but why? And how long is 'a while'?"

"I ran into some money problems."

"So, I gotta play 20 questions to find out why you here? Seth quit playin' with me, I need to sleep."

"Well then," His voice lowered as his hand reached up to stroke her soft cheek. "Why don't we get to bed, and I'll let you know everything first thing in the morning."

A strange mix of his natural musk and damp, rain-soaked clothing invaded Lola's nostrils as he inched closer and closer to her face. His hands gently stroked her, one on her cheek, and the other slowly massaging her hand. She averted her eyes, knowing if she stared into his, she would have a hard time keeping a clear train of thought. Seth had a dizzying effect on Lola, but only when he wanted to turn it on. He was wild, he was spontaneous and absolutely reckless. Everything her ex wasn't.

It had only been a few weeks since Roman had broken up with her. In those weeks, Lola had tried to forget that she had been with the man for two years. Their breakup had been messy, and dragged on longer than it needed to. A slew of accusations from Roman paired with Lola's hot temper, and the relationship imploded. It's never easy dating a stripper, especially when you're easily jealous.

The man standing before her, stroking her cheek and caressing her hand was one of the many accusations Roman made against Lola. She couldn't blame him for thinking something may have gone on, considering how close Seth was with Lola at times. But Lola insisted to the end that she had never been unfaithful to her boyfriend. Things were left uneasily. But, since both were incredibly stubborn neither of them decided to quit their job. Lola wouldn't admit it, but she secretly was hoping for the two of them to reconcile and get back together. He was good for her, she knew it.

Seth, on the other hand was so much like her. She knew he was probably the worst thing for her. She'd never seen him so forward though, not since the breakup. He'd always toe the line between friendly and flirting. This visit, however, was beyond the line.

"Seth, please." Lola weakly pushed his hand away from her face. "Tell me what's really going on."

"I'm low on cash… I fucked up and missed on a few month's rent. So I just need a place to stay until I get back on my feet."

"How badly do you have to fuck up to miss a _few month's_ rent, Seth?"

"I uh… I just mismanaged my assets." His voice faltered slightly. "Listen, Lol, I wouldn't come to you unless I really needed it."

"Bullshit. I'm not letting you stay here unless you tell me the truth."

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, Lola was unsure if she smelled the slightest bit of booze on his breath. "I've been hitting a rough streak at Hollywood Park."

"Hollywood Park? The _Casino_?"

"Yeah. I don't know what happened, my poker game was hot for months. Then lately I've just been off… Please Lol, I need somewhere to stay. I can't go to Dean cause he's gonna tell Roman, and I can't go to Roman because of obvious reasons."

Roman had been very ornery toward Seth ever since the breakup. He didn't blame Seth entirely, but he was an easy outlet for his anger. Seth was lucky he was a one-third owner of the club with Dean and Roman, otherwise he's sure he would be out of a job.

"You gambled away _all_ your money? Seth…"

"I know, I know." He rolled his eyes "It's just exciting, you know? The possibility of beating the odds, reading your opponents, all for the chance to get what you really want at the end of the night…" His voice trailed down her neck, and only then did she register he was dangerously close to grazing her neck with his lips. His words were laced with nothing but innuendo. She shook her head and took a step back.

"You know what? Fine. You can stay here or whatever. I just need to sleep." Lola didn't dare continue the conversation any longer than she needed to. She felt herself losing a grip on her self-control around the handsome man and she had no idea how much longer she would be able to hold on.

She turned and plopped herself onto her futon, careful to place one pillow at her feet for Seth. He snorted and peeled off his damp clothes, stripping down to his boxers. Lola tried to avert her eyes from the sculpted flesh that was the ridges and dips of Seth's abs. It was even harder for her to shield her eyes from seeing what he was packing in his boxers. She didn't dare to stare at him for too long, lest he would be encouraged to advance more than he already had. He slipped into the bed, positioning himself on the opposite end of futon.

Silence came over the two for only a moment before Lola heard Seth's voice again.

"Platinum Diamond Escorts?"

She cursed under her breath, realizing her laptop was wide open at her feet, in perfect view for Seth to read through the last page she was browsing.

"Mind ya own damn business, boy." She said as she sat up and snapped the screen closed.

"Yes ma'am… You know if you ever need any practice escorting, I'm willing to give you a few pointers. We could even start tonight, I'll do whatever it takes." She felt Seth's hand snake its way onto her hip. She quickly shook it away.

"Go to sleep."

Another brief silence passed.

"Hey, Lol?"

"What?"

"Keep this whole thing between us, yeah? The poker thing I mean."

Lola rolled her eyes and reached for the lamp beside her. A satisfying click cloaked the studio in complete darkness.

"Goodnight Seth."


	3. Chapter 3

Beads of warm water rested on Lola's shoulders, some ventured into the valley of her breasts, only to disappear in to the fabric of her towel wrapped tightly about her. She wrapped another towel around her thick dark hair, and reached for her toothbrush. Lola's eyes bored into her reflection, she took a moment to study herself. She could've fallen in love with the sight. Lola's hands reached for her phone. With one hand on her toothbrush and the other expertly navigating her phone she managed to take a few selfies of herself. She grinned all-knowingly at the series of photos she just snapped.

Damn, I even look good brushing my teeth.

She scrolled through various filters before landing on one that made her dull brown eyes look like a deep honey, and her reddish-brown skin look 2 shades lighter and smoother. She posted the impromptu photo on Instagram with the caption "Rise and Shine. #IWokeUpLikeThis"

Lola had posted on Instagram more regularly than she ever had. Toward the latter half of her relationship with Roman, she began to post more. She was on a mission to get her followers up. There was an underlying hope that one of the thousands of thirsty men that follow her would offer to pay off her credit card debt. Lola's credit was shot to shit. She had a habit of forgetting about payment due dates.

Of course how could someone keep track of 12 different cards at a time?

After posting the selfie, she continued to brush her teeth, eyes fixed on the screen to watch the hearts on her post appear. Her brushing slowed when she heard the stirring of Seth in the other room. Her hand slowed to a halt as she tried to eavesdrop on her new impromptu roommate. She opened the bathroom door only slightly, she was curious to see what Seth would be up to without her presence. Luckily, her door was not squeaky on its hinges as it usually was. Through the slit she was able to spy on Seth unobstructed.

The studio was uncharacteristically bright. A hazy, bright, yellow light cast the room in a heavenly glow. Her small living space looked as if a filter was swiped onto it. The mess was almost negligible in that light. Everything looked ethereal, especially the centerpiece of the entire scene; Seth Rollins.

Seth sat up in the futon, leaning against her exposed brick wall. His long, dark waves fell over his shoulders haphazardly. Strangely, he woke without a hair out of place. Lola was anticipating seeing bedhead with the amount of tossing and turning he did last night. His chest and torso was adorned with dark wisps of hair, each strand seemed to be smoothed downward, as if to guide her eyes down toward the line of his boxers. She shook her mind clear, returning her gaze to the man's face.

He winced, almost annoyed as he reached down and adjusted himself.

Lola glanced down to see Seth was standing at full attention in his light grey boxers. Her mouth sprang open in surprise. Had she really just caught Seth with a morning wood? Intrigued, she took a step closer and set her toothbrush down.

"Lola? You here?" He called out, glancing briefly at the bathroom door before scanning the rest of the studio.

She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Curiosity got the best of her, and her mouth quickly snapped shut. Her eyes locked on Seth intently, she studied him, waiting for his next move.

A brief silence passed. Seth raised his hips to slide his boxers to his ankles.

Lola's eyes widened fully, her mouth snapped open, a gasp escaping her lips as her eyes fell upon Seth's brazen cock.

While Seth had always been an incredibly flirty person, she had never imagined him in an actual sexual situation. Lusty stare-downs with Seth often ended at his hips, Lola often felt too invasive to venture her gaze any lower. But there she was, peering from her bathroom door, staring intently at Seth completely naked in her bed.

She felt a pulsing warmth grow between her legs. Her fingers twitched, they instinctively smoothed over her thighs. She had to stop them from venturing any further, barring herself from indulging in the peeping tom fantasy any more than she already was.

Seth's large, strong hands seemed to pick up where Lola's hands left off. They slid around his length, grasping it firmly. His eyes fluttered shut as his head tilted back. A look of pure relief came over his face. His hips began to gently rock back and forth, thrusting into his hand, and perhaps a phantom lover. The firm grip tightened and loosened as it trailed up and down his thick shaft.

She couldn't help but wonder who he was thinking about. Something in her longed for it to be her.

"Fuck" The word escaped barely parted lips. Seduction laced that breathy word, and in an instant Lola felt the unmistakable dampness between her thighs. Watching Seth in such a compromising and intimate moment made her cheeks flush.

What was she doing watching him? This was the very man that her ex accused her of sleeping with. She was better than this, indulging in such a voyeuristic activity. Even with the guilt of watching him, her lust for the man grew.

A cocky, knowing grin stretched Seth's lips as his lids hazily lifted to meet Lola's prying gaze from the bathroom.

Then suddenly, a loud buzzing noise jolted Lola. Her entire body jerked as if bracing for impact. Her eyes sprang open, and suddenly she was in her futon. Her heart thumped throughout her entire body. The rhythmic thudding dully pulsed in her ears. The suddenness of her awakening sent her abdomen a brief wave of nausea and pain. The feelings subsided as she slowly came to and took in the reality of her surroundings.

Seth's toes lay inches away from her face, twitching only slightly in response to the loud buzzing alarm of her phone beside his feet. Its screen read 11:00 AM.

Lola's hand quickly clasped over the insolent device and stopped the noises with a furious swipe of her finger. In a quick glance, Lola confirmed Seth was indeed sleeping soundly on the other side of her futon and not masturbating brazenly for her.

Scrambling out of the futon, Lola remembered why her alarm sounded in the first place. She had an open casting call for Night Candy Escorts. She usually gave herself 2 hours to get ready before work, but for the casting call, she figured 3 hours would suffice.

Lola stared as Seth's body heaved gently up and down, his face resolute in a deep slumber. She distanced herself from the sleeping man, hoping every step away from Seth would be a minute erased from her dream. While a part of her couldn't help but indulge in the thought of sleeping with Seth, another, larger, part of conscious scolded. She was holding out for Roman, even if things seemed irreparable, he was there for her when she needed someone most.

She briefly considered taking a shower to rid herself of the dream, but thought better of it when she was reminded of how the dream's first scene began.

Nonetheless she made her way to the bathroom, resigning to just washing her face and brushing her teeth before meticulously applying her makeup. The door squeaked shut, and suddenly the morning's events vanished behind it.

As layer upon layer spread across Lola's face, her skin tone became more even. The dark crescents under her eyes lightened and then disappeared. Her cheekbones lifted and her eyes appeared narrower, as if permanently locked in a sultry gaze. Lola's hands expertly rearranged the features on her face, as if she were a sculptor.

Lola's makeup skills only improved as she grew older, she knew this by the evidence of her amateur make up looks forever documented in her phone. Her phone archived old profile pictures that she would never let a soul see. The pictures showcased her razor-thin, too-dark drawn in eyebrows, accompanied with 99-cent lip gloss from the hair store down the street from her house, and god-awful blue eyeshadow caked from lash to brow.

"I _know_ you are not about to leave my house with yo' face covered in all that." Lola's mother's southern, honey-dipped voice echoed through her memory. Etta Blanc's voice was so vivid she felt like Lola was standing there in the ever-humid kitchen in Charlotte, North Carolina.

It was summer of _Pokerface_ and _Kiss Me thru the Phone_. Lola had just turned 16. And with that new year under her belt, Etta's threats to call the Maury show to tame her mouthy daughter only became a regular occurrence.

"This ain't even yo' house. What is you even talkin' about?" Lola didn't bother looking up from her phone, her pink acrylic nails tapped against the plastic of her phone's keys. The clackity-clack of the plastic-on-plastic competed with the loud hum of fans in the kitchen. It was dusk, but despite the sun setting, the air in the kitchen stayed stale and nearly-unbreathable. It wasn't until it was fully dark out that the kitchen would become a livable space. Lola's mother only stayed in there to keep an eye on whatever she was cooking at the time. And more often than not, there was something being cooked, and so Etta sat perched in her usual spot near the window with her beloved crossword puzzles. Her large eyes never lifted from the grey pages of her puzzles, but she always seemed to know exactly when to stir the mashed potatoes, turn over the chicken, add salt to the macaroni, or take the greens off the heat.

" _Excuse me_?" Lola's mother rose from her perch, abandoning her nearly-completed crossword book on the modest kitchen table. Etta lifted her daughter's chin from her phone's screen, forcing Lola to stare her square in the eye.

Etta's dull and tired brown eyes met with her daughter's youthful and defiant ones. Lola studied her mother's face; a ruddy brown face much darker than her own, small dark moles freckling her otherwise smooth skin, full lips and a prominent brow speckled with sweat. Despite the caked makeup on her face, the fact still remained that she looked so much like her mother it was annoying.

"This _is_ my house, and I will beat that into you if you don't stop runnin' yo mouth like you grown."

Lola forcefully twisted her chin out of her mother's hand. Disgust casted her face in a twisted scowl as she smacked her teeth.

"This ain't yo' house. Like _you_ say, it's in daddy's name. So it's _his_ house."

"I don't see your father paying these bills or cooking this food. _I'm_ the one that does all that, not him." Etta side-stepped back into Lola's vision. "And with that attitude you ain't going nowhere tonight. Now go wash off that makeup and go to your room."

"The only reason why he ain't is cause he's dead." A challenging grin spread across her glossed lips. "Or so you say."

"Caroline Delores Jeanine Blanc, you are testing my last nerve. Get yo' ass up those stairs and in that room before I beat the ever-lovin' mess outta you." Her mother's nostrils flared and her finger jabbed at the stairway behind her.

Had it been a few years prior, Lola would have been terrified of her mother's wrath. But this had become routine for the duo at this point. She knew her mother was growing more tired by the day. She had picked up a second job, and barely had the energy to discipline her. By 8 PM that night, Lola would be able to sneak out of the house unnoticed.

She merely rolled her eyes and stormed past her mother, stomping up the stairs to her small room. And with a slam of the door, Lola had ended the first of many arguments she would have with her mother over her makeup.

Of course they grew more heated as she grew older, but she never would have imagined looking back on them fondly. Lola understood the saying "You never know what you have until you've lost it."

She thought of her mother every day. And even still, she had yet to shed any tears for her death.

Lola never cried.

"Hey Lola, you gonna be in there much longer?" Seth's nasally voice cut through her memories like a jagged knife. She flinched at the suddenness of his arrival on the other side of the door, and cursed when she dragged her lip liner off the course of her lips.

She grabbed a hair brush from the grimy sink counter and whipped open the bathroom door. In one swift motion she lashed the brush right at Seth, the wooden handle smacked against his chest.

"Fuck!"

"I'll be out when I'm out. Don't fuckin' rush me." She called before slamming the door and returning to her reflection in the mirror.

"Guess I'll just piss in your sink then!"

Just as quickly as it slammed, she opened her bathroom door again, lip-liner in hand.

"Just fuckin' go." She commanded, stepping outside of the bathroom and jabbing a pointed finger toward it.

"Oh thank you, your highness." He brushed past her and closed the door behind him, leaving it cracked open the slightest bit. Lola could tell because the sound of his piss water-falling into the toilet sounded like he was in a cavern.

"So, you going into work early?" He called over the loud echoes of his pee.

"No. Why would I go to work at 1 PM? I only work nights, you know that."

"You're just all dolled up, thought you'd be going in or something."

"Nope" She was short with him, not wanting to let him know about the open audition she was on her way to.

"So…" The toilet flushed and the faucet ran " You're probably on your way to that casting call for Night Candy? Or is it Diamond Escorts today?"

Lola's eyes scanned the room for her laptop. Of course it was wide open. He'd been scrolling through her applications for escort agencies.

"Aight, listen Seth. You are not about to come up in my house, start lookin through my shit and expect me to let you stay here long. Keep cuttin' up and I'll put yo' ass on the street."

He emerged from the bathroom, his hands up in defense with a small smirk on his face. She rolled her eyes and marched back into the bathroom, returning to the sculpted masterpiece that was her face.

* * *

The Bullet Club was decently full that afternoon. Kenny Omega, the owner of the club, anticipated the turnout. He knew that the real showing would happen once the sun set and his Bullet Babes would perform. The day shift was reserved for the timid new girls. These were the girls who were too damaged to follow a normal life trajectory, but too scared to full on prostitute themselves. The novelty of being an exotic dancer was still fresh and one could see it in their faces. Young, round, wild eyes that only became half-lidded and heavier with age, drugs and a laundry list of emotional issues. Despite feeling like an adult woman taking control of her life with the promise of unlimited sexual attention and money, these girls always had an air of discomfort about them. They felt dirty, they felt used, and most of them would be gone before the end of the month.

Somewhere in between the tired and the fresh faced were the girls who's souls left their body. They had been replaced with a drive and tenacity to exploit their patrons for every cent they had. These girls turned on a charm and sensuality that women the world over envied. Beyond that drive and sex, however, was nothing more than an empty shell of a woman. Once their looks go on the decline, they turn to drugs and alcohol and every other vice to fill the void.

Until those women hit that stage of their life, Kenny Omega would scout them out and don them in bullet-themed lingerie. Brass and copper-toned bullet shells accented black leather bras and thongs, high heels, fishnets, even comically large prop guns would be attached to the women's curvy hips and thighs. Leather holsters draped across their hips as they gyrated and strutted across a dark linoleum stage accented with golden strip lights. There weren't multiple stages for men to get distracted by, no. There was only one main stage, all women would parade around with their holsters and bullets and guns and every man in that club would pay attention to them.

This was Kenny's vision.

These women defined fine line between dangerous and sexy, teasing men with their prop guns in their mouths, naked bodies slowly moving to the erratic guitar riffs, only graced with the dull metal shimmer of gun memorabilia.

To say he was obsessed with guns was an understatement.

Kenny Omega was fascinated by them. Perhaps his many late nights staying up playing Street Fighter and Tekken influenced his penchant for violence. No matter from where this obsession grew, Kenny had always known he was going to surround himself with the most beautiful and terrifying weapons when he grew older. Who knew that it would manifest in a strip club in Los Angeles?

From his elevated office, Kenny looked down upon the venue. His new girls were uneasily dancing on stage while a handful of men watched intently. They were still figuring out how to move their bodies for money. The crowd didn't care of course, they were naked, and that was enough.

He turned away from the view and back to the attention of his company. Cody Rhodes stood staunchly between Matt and Nick Jackson, arms crossed and intently staring at Kenny. The other members of the Bullet Club ( Adam "The Hangman" Page and Marty Scrull) sat scattered around Kenny's office.

The minimal lighting, maroon walls and carpet cast everyone in a menacing, bloody light. Matt and Nick (the "Young Bucks", as Kenny called them) insisted on bringing more light into the office, but Kenny insisted on the mood, liking the effect it had on all his guests. He claimed it made people less comfortable around him.

"So what can I help you with, Mr. Rhodes?" Kenny asked, his handsome face stretched into a sinister smile, a tight blonde ringlet fell out of place and in front of his eye.

"You know exactly what you can help me with, Omega. I need- We need to find Flair. It's been months, and we've got nothing." Cody spoke with a slight lisp. With his navy blue suit and bleach blonde hair, he looked like an 80's villain-tycoon. Kenny could barely take him seriously since he dyed his hair from a natural brunette.

"You're right. You have nothing. But then again, I see no reason why I should care about Flair at this point. The man has been MIA for 2 years, and I doubt whatever money he owes your dad won't help us out any." He paced over to his large mahogany desk and took a seat, beginning to toy with the video game figurines that lined the edges.

"Won't help us out?!" Cody bellowed, but quickly checked his volume when Kenny shot an upwards glance at him. "He owed my father well over 3 million. Who knows how much now, plus interest. He's a cash cow, we just need to track him down and liquidate his assets."

Matt and Nick exchanged a look at the mention of 3 million dollars. This didn't go unnoticed by Kenny.

"Why didn't you ever mention how much he owed us before?" His gaze narrowed, Marty flinched in the periphery of his vision.

"Its not like you ever seemed to care. You've just been obsessed with putting guns on strippers instead of the legacy my father left behind."

The muffled sound of the club's music pulsed below as Kenny continued to arrange his figures. For a few long moments, that was the only sound in that office.

The pause was broken by Kenny's deep chuckle.

In an instant, Kenny stood from his desk and aimed an ornate, silver filigreed pistol at Cody. Matt and Nick scrambled away from Kenny's target, Marty let out a yelp, and Adam held out his hands to calm Kenny. The men all shouted, coaxing Kenny to "Calm down!", "Just put it down, man." , "Take it easy!"

"How about this Cody? Fuck your father's legacy. This is the Bullet Club. Not some American Dream bullshit he left to you." Kenny cooly wiped away a mass of ringlets away from his face. "But now you have my attention… I want that 3 million, and you're going to figure out where the hell Flair is so I can get it. Figure it out before the end of this week. Cause I'd hate to have to turn away from my club and deal with it myself. Am I clear?"

"Y-yeah man, whatever you say. I'll do it." Cody stammered, hands outstretched and shaking as he pleaded.

Kenny smiled and placed his gun back on the desk.

"Now who's up for a game of Tekken?"


	4. Chapter 4

The sizzle of tires across wet asphalt slowed to a halt as Lola's uber pulled up beside a squat 3-story brick building. Her neighborhood was not a great one, but it looked even more menacing with the gloom and doom of a rainstorm as its backdrop. The surrounding buildings towered over it, casting it in a dark shadow. Pieces of trash blew haphazardly in the wind. The weather was so bad, it looked like the hobo that usually panhandled outside of her building retreated to his navy blue tent beside the concrete steps.

Glancing out the window, Lola saw that the entrance to her apartment building was further than she would have liked to walk in the rain.

"You can move up. I'm not tryin' to get soaked walkin' to my front door."

Her uber driver was timid and lanky. His fiery red hair was probably the boldest thing about him. His features assembled a man who looked no older than 20, and seemed incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin. Lola's plunging neckline and chunky heels certainly made him more uncomfortable for the duration of their ride. Lola could tell. He looked like the type of guy to walk into a strip club for the first time and ask "So, how does this all work?" Or "Just to clarify, none of this is illegal, right?"

He slowly rolled closer to the front entrance. Lola gathered her comically large purse and prepped it to become her impromptu umbrella. She took a bracing breath before exiting the car and quickly shuffling into her building's tiny lobby.

After keying in and bouncing up the stairs to her floor, she dug through her bag to find her keys. The door swung open.

"Home so soon, darling?!" Every word out of Seth's mouth only further parodied himself. He sounded like a bad impersonation of a 1930's TV husband. He stretched his hands wide for a hug, while simultaneously blocking Lola's entrance to her own home. He had gotten around to at least putting on a shirt, but his stood in her doorway in only his boxers from the waist down.

"Boy, if you don't move!" Lola fought a smile as she swung her bag at him. He feigned an injury as he doubled over and allowed her to step inside. She expertly avoided her oil spill on the floor and began to kick off her heels to the corner of her studio.

"That was quick… Am I looking at Night Candy's newest piece of night candy?"

Lola couldn't help but snort at his terrible joke.

"No. Hell no. That was a fucking joke."

She opened her fridge and ducked low to inspect it's contents. She frowned when she only saw a half-eaten container of coleslaw from KFC and condiment packets. She grabbed the coleslaw and a fork from her sink.

"I get there, and there are like 10 other girls. The dude has us stand in a line and take off all our clothes. Like, we was ass-hole naked standing in front of this greaseball." She dug around the coleslaw container with her fork, inspecting it. "Then, no lie, he started feelin' up on the first girl in line. Like, he was knuckles-deep. Then he went on to the next girl. I was number three in line, so I found my clothes and dipped."

Seth chuckled and plopped down onto her futon.

"Hey, maybe I should talk to the boys at the club, we could always change our interview process to be more hands-on. I like that guy's methods."

She shook her head and laughed. When she looked up from her pitiful cup of coleslaw, her eyes met Seth's. To an outsider, the glance seemed wasn't noteworthy. However Lola could have sworn she caught the slightest glimpse of a wink from Seth. She quickly averted her eyes and continued to smile, feeling uncharacteristically bashful. The sound of the rain outside filled the quiet space between them for a few moments.

 _Knock Knock Knock_

The two frowned at each other.

"Who the fuck is that?" Lola mouthed.

Seth shrugged and shook his head.

The two waited in silence, hoping that the visitor had the wrong apartment. But the knocking came a second time, more intense.

"Who is it?" Seth called. This response received an aggressive whispered scolding from the kitchen area.

"Seth?" The voice from the other side of the door spoke.

"Dean?" Lola and Seth said in unison. She opened the door to reveal a dripping wet Dean Ambrose. His hair stuck together in waves across his forehead, still fully saturated and dripping down his round face. Lola thought for a moment how comical it was that every man that arrived at her door happened to be one of her bosses, and always sopping wet . It was only a matter of time before Roman showed up at her door…

The thought was cast away when her eyes landed on Dean's expression. An eyebrow quirked as a small grin came to his thin lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt." He gestured to Seth, who was sprawled across her futon in his boxers and t-shirt. Her studio was pretty small, and it was incredibly easy to see the entirety of its contents from just the doorway.

Putting two and two together, she gasped and waved her hands about wildly.

"Nah, nah! It ain't even like that Dean, quit playin'." She then turned back to Seth and shot a menacing glare at him, waving at him to find his pants and clothe himself. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, I needed to talk to you about something." He took a step into the studio, dripping from his leather jacket and soaked jeans on to the floor. " But I see you've got company."

"Dean! No, I said it ain't like that. Don't you dare-" Lola's voice lowered a few octaves "Don't you dare say a word of this to Ro."

"Hey man, she's right. I'm just crashing here for a few days. Its not what it looks like at all." Seth finally chimed in, as he buckled his jeans.

"I have no horse in that race. So, I don't really care. I just came here to talk to you about something pretty important Lo." Dean raised his hands in defense, his half-grin stayed plastered to his face the entire time.

"And you couldn't call?" Lola's narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Its not the type of thing you talk about over the phone." Dean's grin suddenly vanished from his features. Eyes narrowed, lips tightened into a taught, thin line. He exuded intensity. "You never know who could be listening."

Usually Dean's non-chalant, sarcastic, I'm-better-than-this attitude made Lola feel at ease. He brought a lightness to most situations, mainly because he was ready and unafraid to point out the absurdity of it all. But when his demeanor suddenly changed, she felt as if she knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Seth, get out." Lola commanded, not breaking eye contact with Dean.

"Wait, what? Lol-"

"Seth, I swear to god if you don't-"

"Alright, Alright. I'll be in the hall."

"And don't stand near the door. If I catch you eavesdropping I'll have your shit out on the street faster than you can say 'I'm Sorry'."

Seth rolled his eyes and brushed past the two, closing the door behind him. Lola and Dean stayed silent for a moment, listening for his footsteps down the hall. Once they felt he was at a safe distance, they nodded.

"I hope you ain't here for what I think." She sighed, almost exhausted by the thought of it.

"Lo, you aren't making any money. None of us are. We gotta get back to making money somehow."

"I'm working on making money, thank you very much." She snapped. "And it don't involve you and yo fuckin' coke."

"Oh and you think being an escort is gonna make you the same kinda money you made with me?" He challenged, his signature smirk creeped back onto his face.

"How'd you know-"

"I overheard you and Alexa that night. You guys aren't discrete at all." He shook his head and sauntered over to the lone window in her studio and looked below to the desolate street and its pouring rain. "Regardless, I came here to see if you'd want in on a new shipment. I heard its big money and it would be great to have your help on this."

"I'm sure you would love my help. But I'm not tryin to catch a case." She moved behind him, peering out at the dark, wet pavement below. "Did you forget about what happened last time?"

"Of course not. I'm the one who took the fall, not you." He snapped, his cool demeanor faltered for a moment, before he regained it again.

"And no one asked you to do that for me. Just cause you took the blame don't mean I'm in debt to you for it."

"No one asked me to do that? Bullshit. You and I know damn well that Roman would have had me castrated if he knew I had you dealing."

He was right. It had only been a few months ago that Dean and Lola were selling coke on the side. The two had struck up an improbable deal when Lola walked in on Dean hiding the last of his enormous garbage bag filled with it in the office closet. She promised not to tell her then-boyfriend Roman about what she'd seen if he would cut her in on the deal. She had felt the impending slow season hit the club, and Lola had always loved the promise of more money. Little did either of them know, Lola would push product way better with a pair of tits in a customer's face.

And so for the following months, her side business with Dean bustled, while her main gig as a dancer only became more abysmal by the day. She of course kept that part of her life a secret from Roman, yet another thing that caused a strain on the relationship.

Until it all, of course, came to a nasty head.

Dean got dragged out of the club one evening by a swarm of officers dressed in tactical gear. They'd been led to believe Dean was the highest man in the supply chain, and he'd be heavily armed. That was not the case, and after weeks of interrogations, and court hearings Dean was able to get off with a hefty fine and a blemish on his record. This was all lessened from the federal charges he was facing. Had it not been for one of his former bosses, former co-owner of the club and now legal counsel, Dave Batista, Dean would probably be rotting in jail.

Of course Dean considered spilling the beans on Lola being involved too, but decided against it when he realized that Roman would most likely have him killed for not only involving Lola, but also ratting her out. Roman was not the type to kill, but he would question that when it came to Lola. He was fiercely defensive of her, even when the two of them were at each other's throats.

"So what? Thats done and over with. I ain't trying to bring that bullshit into my life right now." Lola crossed her arms and nudged Dean weakly.

"I'm not forcing you to do anything, Lo. I'm just looking out for you."

"Now _that's_ bullshit. Dean Ambrose ain't looking out for anyone but Dean Ambrose. Don't come to me actin' like a savior. You said it yourself. Roman would fuck you up if he knew. You only comin' to me cause you know I can push product better and faster than if you did alone."

Dean shrugged and snorted.

"Fine, you got me. I really couldn't care less if you ended up on the streets tomorrow. Just thought I'd extend the offer."

"Well fuck you too then." Lola sucked her teeth.

"And I'll take that as my cue to leave. Think about it and lemme know." He began to exit her apartment, but paused at the door. He turned to her with the look of a man ready to push some buttons. " I'll see you at work in a few. Oh, and lay off on the lip liner, its looking a bit borderline-drag."

He slipped out of the door before Lola had a chance to react. She rolled her eyes and let it go, focusing on the grey-blue scene outside her window. It seemed like the rain was finally starting to let up, the once-heavy globs of water became pittering droplets that misted the streets below. She wondered for a moment if getting back into business with Dean would be the better route. The steadiness of income and ease of it was more than tempting. But she could never picture herself in jail.

She could talk a big game, but when it came down to it, she knew jail would chew her up and spit her out.

Another knocking came from the door.

"Come in, he left." She called, still gazing down on the wet pavement.

As if perfectly choreographed, Dean and his leather jacket walked across the street and into his car, while Seth walked into her apartment.

"Hey, I think the landlord left this notice on your door."

"Notice? What notice?" Lola's face twisted in confusion. She didn't wait for Seth's response, and snatched the paper out of his hand. Her eyes landed on a bright red piece of paper with bold black lettering. While there was quite a bit of text on the page, there were two unmistakable words written boldly across the top of the page. The words proudly declared for all of Lola's neighbors to see :

EVICTION NOTICE

* * *

"Can you believe that guy? Pulling a gun out - on _me -_ of all people?!" Cody leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms, incredulous.

It was Friday at 3PM, the slow shift at Minnie's Diner. The Bullet Club liked to frequent the place during this time, and the staff all knew it. The men were usually sat in the large red corner booth in the back. This was to serve two purposes: to make sure that any patrons that did come in weren't intimidated by the group of men, and to accommodate their large statures, no other table in the place would be able to comfortably fit 6 men their size.

Today, however, only Cody Rhodes, Marty Scurll and Adam Page sat in their usual booth. Kenny and the Young Bucks were not invited to the impromptu meeting.

"I honestly can believe it, mate. The man's bonkers, we all knew that going into this though." Marty's gravelly British accent cut over the nondescript old jukebox tunes. He mindlessly twirled a tip of his dark mustache as he watched the rain outside the window.

Marty's nickname, "The Villian" was partial to his appearance. He donned a large fur coat, circular sunglasses and dark, slicked-back hair. He was meticulous with his wardrobe, even if the sweltering Los Angeles heat got to him, he refused to go anywhere without his fur.

"Yeah, sure, he's crazy but not 'try-to-kill-Cody-crazy." Adam replied, shaking his head and taking a sip of his coffee.

To any common passerby, Adam looked like any other laid-back surfing bro. Long wavy dirty-blonde hair, usually tied back into a messy bun, facial hair and a toned physique. Little did people know, he carried a pre-tied noose in his jeans back pocket. He rarely took it out, but when he did, his victim would come to know why Adam Page was called "Hangman".

"Right? Exactly. I get it, he's the chosen one, AJ left and thought he'd be the best one to lead us. But what has he really got to offer? A strip club with a random-ass gun theme? Come on. I can't be the only one who thinks thats only going to make us money for so long." Cody threw his hands in the air. He was exhausted with the mere thought of Kenny Omega.

"Hey now, come on. Look, he's done wonders for us. We're not involved in any more shady drug trafficking like AJ had us doing before. And Finn before that. We're managing a legitimate business, not taking hits out on people and the like. Be grateful, yeah?" Marty tried reasoning with the two.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe taking hits or trafficking were the only tried-and-true ways to make money? People do these things because its steady and makes a lot of money fast. My dad did it, AJ did it, Finn did it and so did everyone else who has half a brain." Cody retorted. "Kenny doesn't want to get his hands dirty, but then turns around and tells me to find a man that's been missing for 2 years? How the hell does he expect me to do that in one week?"

The trio were silent for a moment. Their waitress approached the table with their plates, her red lips stretched into a disingenuous smile. She was terrified of them. Within a few quick seconds she had placed their meals before them and walked away wordlessly. She didn't want to find out what would happen if she said the wrong thing to the Villian, or the Hangman, or even the American Nightmare, Cody Rhodes.

After the woman scampered away out of earshot, the three resumed their conversation.

"Maybe we should pay a visit to his family? Shake them down for some info?" Adam quirked an eyebrow as he began to saw through his steak.

"Ric had them put into a witness protection program. We're never going to find any of them." Cody shook his head.

" Well what about his old Evolution buddies? They owned the club with him, they should have an idea of his whereabouts." Marty offered.

Cody choked out a nervous laugh. He began to cut into his eggs with more vigor than intended. When Marty and Adam noticed this they gave each other a look from across the table. They knew something was up. Cody had to quickly regain his composure.

"They're never going to give that info up guys. Come on, that's just- that's just dumb." Cody's lisp was more pronounced that it usually was.

He was aware of this, but hoped that the comment would dissuade the two from pursuing the Evolution idea. When the two shrugged and continued to eat their food, he felt a wave of relief.

He couldn't let anyone know about what happened between him and their former-rivals only a year ago.

That was a secret Cody was willing to take to his grave.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a year ago when Cody Rhodes tried to strike a deal with Evolution. Ric Flair fled the group a year prior, and the ownership of the club was still in transition to the Shield. The Bullet Club was up on the rise, with it's newly crowned leader, Kenny Omega at the helm. Cody couldn't believe AJ Styles chose Kenny of all people to run the club. It was more than obvious to Cody who was the right choice for the job. He had his father's legacy to uphold, and yet he fell short. He was left playing the second-hand to a man who collected action figures and guns.

He knew what he had to do to regain control. But he'd need help. Thats when Evolution came to mind. The underbelly of LA knew that the most powerful and fearsome group around was Evolution. Hunter Hearst Helmsley, better known as Triple H, was the leader of the group. He clawed his way to the top with dirty tactics and unsavory deals. He was cerebral, always calculating, and never betrayed his next move. Cody had only ever heard stories of what Triple H was capable of, but from what he gleaned, he knew that he could never be trusted. The man betrayed every group he'd ever been a part of, while he left a trail of enemies behind him, he did make his way to the top of LA's underworld.

Cody knew that he had to appeal to Triple H to get what he wanted. And so a year ago on that sunny day in August, Cody Rhodes took his first, and last step into Club Evolution. He donned too-large-for-his-face aviators, and a light grey suit. His hair was it's natural brunette back then, so he didn't stand out in the crowd. Making his way into the dark club, he snaked through the crowded space. Beautiful women sauntered about in nothing but heels and jewels, eager men stared at them with hungry eyes.

"Show some love for our beautiful Lola B!" Corey Graves shouted over the microphone as he switched the music to a slower R&B riff. A leggy woman with a log pink wig strutted onto the main stage, and men slowly began to crowd around her. Cody glanced up at the woman, noticing that she looked a little like his own wife, Brandi. Not wanting to get caught by spending too much time in the main area, he decided to venture to the narrow hallway in the back, illuminated with deep red lights.

He knocked on the imposing wooden door with the gold plated sign reading "MANAGEMENT" in bold engraved letters. After a few moments of waiting, the door cracked open slightly to reveal the ruddy face of Dave Batista.

Dave was the club's enforcer and legal counsel. He was the only one of the bunch that actually went to college and held multiple degrees. No one would guess that looking at him. He was a wide-chested man, heavily muscled, with a menacing glare always hidden behind dark sunglasses. With his shaved head and ample tattoos, people would just assume he was a bouncer. But his role in Evolution was so much more key.

"The restroom is around the corner and to the left, man." The base of Dave's voice called over the music.

"I'm not lost. I'm looking to speak with Hunter." Cody replied cooly.

Dave lowered his glasses to get a better look at Cody, his brows raised when he recognized who he was.

"You Dusty's boy?"

"Yeah, and I'm here to speak with Hunter. I got a proposition for him."

The door slammed in his face. Stunned, Cody shook his head and glanced around him, hoping that no one watched the embarrassing rejection. Lifting his fist again, he banged on the door, a little more forceful this time.

The door swung open and Dave's inked arm grabbed Cody's collar and dragged him in. He toppled onto the floor, and looked up at 3 of the original 4 members of Evolution. Triple H stood with his large arms crossed over his chest, Dave Batista and Randy Orton flanked his sides, hands on their hips, and sleeves rolled up.

Cody glanced up at Randy, and didn't break eye contact. The two had known each other quite well before. They had a brief stint trying to break into the club scene with another young man named Ted DiBiase. The three of them held a bit of prestige in their circles, mostly due to their father's legacies. But things went south when Randy decided to join Hunter's group.

Randy looked as if he just left a tanning salon, with a deep bronzed sheen to his skin. Tattoos laced his muscled arms. His short dark hair was reminiscent of his short time in the Marines; short and neat. He did go AWOL, but his father knew people in high places and was sure to make that blemish disappear on Randy's record.

Randy's eyes narrowed before he grabbed Cody by his arm and yanked him onto his feet. When Cody clumsily found his footing, he was face to face with the largest of the three men. Triple H.

He sported a bald head like Batista, with unkempt blonde facial hair. His prominent brow hooded his eyes, making him look like a cartoonish barbarian.

"I heard you've got a proposition for me?" Triple H's gravely voice filled the near-silence of the room.

"Ye-Yes I-" Cody's lisp was getting worse with the stutter.

"Don't you think you're on the wrong side of town? Last I heard you were rollin' with the Bullet Bitches."

Cody felt a sudden wave of panic rush over him as he realized that the three men were surrounding him.

"Look- Look! I come in peace. Alright? I came here because I need your help and I think I can make it worth your time." He held his hands up in defense, hoping that the three men would take a step back and allow him some space.

They didn't budge.

"Keep talking." Hunter commanded.

Cody rehearsed his pitch a million times in front of a mirror, but his mind decided to cut to the meat of his proposition. Something told him to make this as short and sweet as possible.

"Alright. I need help dethroning Kenny. And I'm willing to pay you a hefty amount. And once I'm in charge, I'll make Bullet Club a subsidiary of Club Evolution."

The bass from the song outside the office caused the ground beneath Cody's feet send slight vibrations up his legs. The muffled music was the only sound that filled the room. He looked around the room nervously, taking into account the lavish furniture, leathers and mahogany all around the room. Prestigious and foreboding. He gulped as he waited for a response from one of them, any of them.

"So you need us to take out a hit on Kenny Omega for you?" Hunter finally broke the silence.

Cody nodded eagerly.

Hunter's thunderous laughter filled the room, soon joined by Dave and Randy's equally loud laughter. The symphony of mockery made Cody feel even more claustrophobic. A cold bead of sweat trailed down his spine.

"We're not for hire. And you're a fucking idiot for thinking so." Hunter growled.

And as if they were perfectly choreographed, Dave and Randy simultaneously grabbed Cody's arms and propelled him backwards toward the door.

"Just a word of advice kid, next time you decide to stage a coup, do it yourself. Recruiting your competition is ill-advised."

Those were the last words Cody heard before he was forcefully thrown out of Evolution's office. Terrified what would happen after that encounter, he shamefully hid away from the Bullet Club for a week. To his knowledge, Evolution never told Kenny or anyone else in the club what he had tried to do. Maybe Evolution assumed that the Bullet Club's affairs were not worth meddling in.

Whatever their reason for not telling on him, Cody was thankful. Otherwise, he was sure he'd be dead.

* * *

Cody chewed through his ham and eggs as he listened to his colleagues Marty and Adam toss around suggestions to help him find Ric Flair before the week was over.

"What about the Shield?" Marty quipped.

"What about them? You think they'd give up anything on Flair without trying to kill us first? No way." Adam dismissed him.

"Well then maybe we should try thinking like our fearless leader? Get a little crazy with it, yeah?" The Villian quirked his thick brow as he heavily salted his fries.

"Crazy how? Show up waving a bunch of guns around? Not unless you want to start an all-out war, no." Cody replied. He rested his chin on his knuckles, a contemplative expression graced his features as he stared down at the seafoam green table. "But maybe we can try infiltrating… Maybe we can get a spy in there, someone to extract that info."

Without missing a beat, Adam carried on the thought. "That could work… But I'm sure they know who we all are. Theres no way we can get in there undetected."

"Not unless we had a fit bird pose as an employee. Someone like… say… Brandi?" The British man proposed.

Cody felt his colleagues' gaze weigh heavily on him. The gears turned in his head as he pondered the idea of his wife infiltrating the Shield. It seemed to be the perfect plan. A devious grin stretched across his thin lips.

"Someone like Brandi."

* * *

"Lol, are you okay?" Seth's nasal voice faded away in the shroud of Lola's thoughts. He became more and more distant as a tightness creeped around her throat like a death grip. Her face grew searing hot and her hand trembled with the red eviction notice in her hand.

Lola never cried, but she felt it creeping up on her like it always had. She never cried when her mother first told her that her father passed away at the age of 4. She never cried when she broke her leg running in front of a car at the age of 12. Not once when she found out her first real boyfriend had been sleeping with her best friend at the age of 17. And not a single tear when she found out her mother had passed away at the age of 23.

She always thought something was wrong with her for not sobbing uncontrollably at her mother's funeral. Although they fought constantly, she was the only stable person in her life. It had only been 2 years when she lost her, and it wasn't to something tangible or neat like cancer or old age. It was violent, unexpected and painful. Her mother was trapped in her bedroom when the house caught fire. Police never found the culprits. And in a whirlwind of "My condolences" , pity stares and police reports Lola was left truly alone. Type-casted as the neighborhood stripper with a dead father she never met and a mother who worked too hard only to die in a fire.

Life was tragic. That was a truth Lola grew to know. And in knowing this, she expected things to turn ugly, and fast. She knew that nothing lasts forever, and that someone or something will always be around the corner, ready to take it away from you. There was no need to cry in those times, because she felt it would do nothing to help.

This was just another one of those times she felt those hot tears threatening to emerge would be useless. She gulped and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the present, and not on what her mother would be thinking of her in this situation.

"Lol! Lola? Can you hear me? Are you okay?" Seth's hands waved frantically in front of her face. His brows pinched together in worry, his brown eyes searched wildly for a sign of recognition.

She slapped his hands away.

"I'm fine." She took a deep breath and handed the paper to Seth. "Read this and tell me what it says, I can't think straight right now."

He did as he was told and began to read the notice. After skimming through the legal jargon he settled on the paragraph with the most caps-locked text:

"Please take further noice that within three days after service of this notice, you are hereby required to pay the above-listed amount in full, $1,316, or quit the subject premises and move out. Failure to pay the rent in full or vacate the premises within three days as required by this notice will result in forfeiture of the lease—"

"Aight, aight that's enough. I get it." She waved her hand through the air, as if she could dismiss it so simply. She held her head in her hand, looking down at the unswept floor.

"I'm sorry Lol." Seth said, reaching out to stroke her arm. "Maybe- maybe you can make that at the club. Its a Thursday, if you make about 400 a day you can swing it."

Lola shot Seth a murderous glare. He immediately retracted his hand away from her arm.

The two stood in silence. For Seth, it was uncomfortable. For Lola, it was necessary.

A buzzing came from Seth's back pocket. Seth felt as if the call was sent from the heavens. He eagerly grabbed his phone and answered it, not even caring who had called him.

He regretted his decision when he heard an unmistakable deep baritone.

"You gonna explain to me why you at Lola's right now? Or was I right this whole time about you and her?"

Roman.

* * *

Seth quickly retreated to the hallway with the phone pressed to his ear. He was sure Lola wouldn't mind his sudden exit from her presence. And despite his urge to console the woman, it was clear she didn't welcome it.

"Heeyyy man, long time no see. How've you been?" Seth knew Roman wouldn't allow him to stall very long, but he decided to shoot his shot while he figured out his angle. He had to de-escalate, and fast. The phone slipped in his hand, streaks of sweat smeared across the screen. He wiped his hands on his shirt, and walked toward the end of the hallway, near the cool window.

"Quit the bullshit, Rollins. What the fuck is going on?" His words cut through the speaker and stung Seth with every syllable. His mind raced, wondering what would be the best course of action.

Roman had little sympathy for Seth. Especially after Roman broke up with Lola and accused Seth of sleeping with her. Dean, who never took sides, surprisingly chose to defend Seth. In the end, it was all just speculation, and Roman had to face that fact. All three of them were bound to the club, as deemed by Evolution. The only way out, is if they were on the receiving end of a bullet, or were willing to pay a hefty price.

Seth knew Roman had no patience for him. Regardless, he tried to spark some sympathy from the man that was once his close friend.

"Alright, listen, man… I got into some trouble." Seth paused as he carefully calculated his next words. "I needed some help, and asked Lola if I could crash for a few days. No funny business, just needed help."

The line stayed silent. Panic tightened Seth's chest as he waited for Roman's response.

"Get to the club. Now."

The line went silent, before three beeps indicated he'd hung up. Seth stared back at Lola's door, a strange feeling clutched at the pit of his stomach. It clawed at him, making him sink, further and further still.

He was screwed.


	6. Chapter 6

Seth peered around the door to Lola's apartment, dark tendrils feathered around his face haphazardly. Lola didn't bother turning to look at Seth, she just continued to lay on her futon, sheets rustled around her, staring above at the brown splotches on her water-stained ceiling.

"Hey, so… That was Roman." Seth said drawing out the words as he carefully stepped into her studio.

Lola grinned, the smile never reached her heavily made-up eyes. A small chuckle left her. "And what the fuck does he want?" Whatever Seth was going to say next wouldn't surprise her in the least. She was expecting nothing but bad news for a while.

 _"_ _When it rains, it pours."_ Lola heard the echoes of her mother's voice in a distant memory.

"He knows I've been staying here. He said to get to the club. Like, now." He scratched the back of his head and stared at the dusty floor.

"Let me guess. Dean told him." She rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the bed.

"I wouldn't put it past him." He sounded defeated, like he was dreading whatever Roman was going to say or do once he got to the club. Lola couldn't help but notice the once over-confident man was nervously scratching at the back of his head.

She walked over to him and crossed her arms, waiting for him to look up at her. She gave him a small smile when he finally did. His gaze was almost apologetic coming from underneath those thick, dark lashes. She couldn't deny, the boy was fine.

"I'll come with you." She reached out and carefully placed her hand on his shoulder. She felt the thin fabric of his t-shirt smooth over his muscle. Her fingers began to caress the material. But when her eyes met his again, she stopped, snatching her hand away. "Whatever he got to say to you, he can say to me."

Brandi Rhodes whipped a pair of chunky black stilettos at her husband, Cody Rhodes.

"Do I look like a stripper? What the hell is all this?" She shouted from the large bedroom, throwing garment after garment into the hallway at her husband. Cody leaned against the wall in his light grey suit, hands in pockets, with an unaffected expression on his clean-shaven face.

"Brandi, baby, I explained this already. You won't be stripping. You'll be a cocktail waitress. You just need to dress the part."

Brandi emerged from the room, a blue silk robe draped around her slender silhouette, cascading in billowy ruffles. Cody's eyes violated his wife's figure. She rarely looked distressed, especially since he made sure to take care of her every whim and desire. But when he saw Brandi, thick black hair disheveled, perfectly manicured eyebrows pinched in a delicate line, lips parted in exasperation, and smooth brown skin peering from beneath a slipping robe, he couldn't help but entertain the thought of reeling her back into that bedroom and giving her something to really worry about.

"Cod - Cody! Are you even listening to me right now?" His wife's shrill voice picked up hints of her southern accent.

"Yes, yes. I am." He lied. She gave him a look that he could only smile at. "Alright, I wasn't. I was imagining pushing you back onto that bed and -"

"No. No, Cody, you stay right there and tell me what this is all about. You asked me a favor, and I said I'd help, but not if you keep me in the dark about it." She held her arm out, making sure he wouldn't take any more advances, literal or spoken.

"I told you already. We just need you to go to the Shield, ask to be a cocktail waitress, and get some info for us." Cody smoothly stepped over the thrown clothes and took his wife's beauty-queen face into his hands. "Its not dangerous, and you won't be showing any more skin than what I've picked out for you."

"But why am I getting info in the first place? What info am I even looking for?"

"We just need to know where Ric Flair is hiding." He said in a hushed whisper, despite the estate being barren, except for the live-in maid, Gretta.

"And who is Ric Flair?" Brandi's eyebrows pinched together even further with worry. She enjoyed the spoils of Cody's lifestyle, but kept her head out of the gritty details. This wasn't just her choice, but Cody's preference. He'd told her he'd rather her not know the ins and outs of his business, in case the cops ever came she could honestly say she didn't know a thing.

"Ric Flair is the man who is going to buy you a new house, new car, new purses, dresses, what ever your heart desires." The words streamed out of his mouth with fervor.

A wild look in Cody's eye caused Brandi to take an instinctive step backward. A wicked grin pulled at the corner of his lip as he stroked the smooth silk of his wife's robe before pulling her in close again.

"Ric Flair is going to pay for all that and then some. And when its all over, you're going to be looking at the newest owner of the Bullet Club."

MANAGEMENT

The words were engraved oppressively on the brass plate outside of the office that both Seth and Lola had been in countless times.

The quietness of the club seemed to mimic the calm before the storm. The club didn't change much from it's operating state. Stale sadness didn't lurk in the air. Just a residual grime. Seedy things happened in that room and on that stage. The fluorescent lights revealed that psuedo-sexy red lighting only masked the scuffed black floors, lackluster stages, and dirtier-than-sin chairs and tables.

They stood before the door, taking their last quiet moment before crossing the threshold into guaranteed drama. Lola turned to look up at Seth.

"You good?"

He simply nodded and opened the door, stepping through it with the stride of a confident man.

Roman stood at the center of the room, leaning against the desk, and speaking with Dean who was sprawled across a dusty old couch. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his strong brow stayed permanently furrowed on his striking face. Lola was familiar with that stance and expression. He was brooding.

"You rang?" Seth announced as he crossed his arms and stared at Roman.

"What are you doing here?" Roman's gaze sharply changed from Seth to Lola behind him. His gaze narrowed and Lola practically felt the sting of it.

"Making sure you ain't gonna start throwin' blame and pointin' fingers when you ain't got the whole story." Lola joined the arms-crossing club and took a step forward.

Roman rolled his eyes and made a hissing sound. "I don't got time for you right now, Lola. Please leave."

Lola pursed her rouge lips and quirked a brow in challenge.

"You heard him Lo, come on." Dean sat up from the couch, before approaching Lola.

"Uh, I think you the last person to be touchin' me right now." She shot him a pointed look, one that reminded him that he asked her for a favor not too long ago.

He chuckled and wagged his finger at Lola, seeming to understand her look perfectly. He planted himself back on the couch.

"Dean?" Roman raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not in the mood to deal with the hell-cat right now." Dean yawned and stretched back into his original supine position.

Incredulous, Roman threw his hands in the air.

"Why did you call me here, man?" Seth sighed.

Roman's gaze bounced between Seth and Lola, his features twisted into an expression of disgust.

"You know exactly why."

"I already told you, no funny business. I just needed help."

"And the first person you go to is my ex?"

Lola tried not to flinch at the last word. He spat it.

"If you haven't noticed, your doors aren't always particularly _open_ , Roman." Heat simmered in his chest, Lola could feel the rumble in his voice. "And Dean apparently can't keep a secret."

"Oh right. The 280 thousand dollar secret. The secret that's been steadily tanking this club since Evolution handed it over. _That_ fucking secret?"

Dean's brows raised, "Wow" he mouthed.

"Two hundred what now? Seth, you didn't say you lost that much, what the-" Lola jolted Seth's shoulder, attempting to spin him to face her. He barely swayed at her touch, but winced at the amount of money Roman announced to the room.

"Yeah, thats right. Two-hundred-eighty-thousand dollars." Roman interrupted. "What, Lola? Surprised your new boyfriend isn't as honest as you thought?"

Lola's attention snapped immediately to Roman. A burning rose from the tail of her spine, and quickly spread across her body. Seeing her ex sitting there so smug, so sure that he knew her and Seth had been dating, it made her clench her fists so tightly, searing pain emanated from the her palms. She stomped over to him, and stood, centimeters from his ruddy face.

"He ain't my fuckin' boyfriend." She growled through clenched teeth.

He glanced over her head, at Seth. "Really? Cause I don't know what else to call it when you move in with someone 3 weeks after you break up with someone else."

"Hey man, lay off, alright. We've been down this road before. We aren't a thing, drop it." Seth stepped forward, wedging his body between Roman and Lola. Nudging Lola back, he kept his gaze level with Roman's. Nothing but tension and challenge were exchanged between the two.

Roman pushed off the desk and stood, toe to toe with the slightly shorter man. His nostrils flared, and chest protruded slightly.

"Alright. I've had enough of this." Dean yawned again, stretching before hopping off the couch. "Lo, Roman, you guys need to talk. Seth, come with me." He casually pushed Seth's body away from Romans and out of the office.

"Just let it all out, you two." He called before closing the door, taking Seth with him.

The sounds of heated breathing filled the room, fiery glares met as the couple stood at odds. Lola stood as if she were ready to swing. Roman stood staunchly, unmoving from his face-off with Seth.

"Why are you like this?" She hissed.

"What the fuck do you expect? You out here fuckin' my best friend."

She growled and clenched her fists further, breaking the skin of her palms.

"Two years. It took you two years to go from the man that has been there since literally the hardest day of my life, to a man that's so fuckin' paranoid he ended it all."

Roman stayed silent, he pressed his lips together. His face softened, only the slightest bit.

"Maybe I ain't say it enough, but I loved you. I fuckin' loved you. I _still_ do. And I ain't over it." Lola breathed, feeling a rush of words spill over her lips. "I ain't over you. If I was, do you really think I'd stay here? You think I would put up with this bullshit?"

She could see a war of words happening in Roman's head. He stared down at the carpet, picking at his fingers as he contemplated her words. He turned back to his desk, his back to Lola. Before he even spoke, she knew he was going to reject her, yet again.

"I don't know Lo, but frankly, I don't got time for your bullshit, now-"

She was out the door before he could finish his sentence.


	7. Chapter 7

Stinging.

That was all Lola could feel at the corner of her eyes, coaxing tears to roll down her cheeks. She swallowed the dry, painful lump in her throat and continued her march away from the club. She hated the sensation, but she felt the mental block, stopping tears from spilling.

Lola doesn't cry. She never does.

Seth made a feeble attempt at stopping her stride as she passed him and Dean in the locker room, but Dean knowingly held him back. She brushed past them without a second thought and was well on her way to…

She wasn't entirely sure. She stood outside of the squat building and looked up and down the vacant street. Her surroundings were cast in a muted shade of greyish-blue, a fine mist settled over the area as tiny water droplets seemed to float around her. She clutched onto her purse and shivered, cursing herself for not bringing a heavier jacket. Her time in Los Angeles hadn't been too short, but it wasn't as if she'd ever been in a colder city for most of her life.

Her dark eyes scanned the street for any sign of direction. Despite the numerous times she'd walked in and out of the Shield, she felt lost in that moment.

A dull tremor rumbled her abdomen. And suddenly, Lola found herself trying to remember the last time she'd had a meal. So much had happened in such a short time, the last thing she remembered eating was left over coleslaw from her otherwise empty fridge. Her stomach growled in response to the recollection.

Her aching stomach seemed to take control of her next movements, leading her feet along the edge of the desolate road, and hopefully to some comforting food.

Chunky heels clicked along cheap linoleum flooring as Lola entered a diner called _Minnie's Diner._ She'd never heard of it. But by the look of the place it had been there for a while, perhaps even before she were born. Faded checkerboard tiles lined the floors of the small rectangular restaurant. The yellow and slate grey tiles certainly were not those colors when first purchased. Lola's heavy lashes fell to the ground to inspect the scuffs and scrapes on the tile near her sparkling white platform heel.

"Can I get you a table honey?" An older woman with a pile of unnaturally red hair called out to Lola.

She glanced up at the older woman, a waitress's smile was plastered on hot pink lips. Her wrinkled fingers laid poised on a menu. Lola could tell she was judging with her eyes, her gaze was heavy on Lola's clinging wet jacket and too-high-to-be-classy heels.

"I'll just sit at the counter." Lola replied slowly, as if roused from a trance.

The waitress's lips puckered into a tight, wrinkled "Oh" as she set the menu down on the counter and gestured to the torn red stool against it. Lola nodded curtly and took the seat. The woman leaned in, a little too close for Lola's comfort and whispered into her ear.

"I love your hair." As she walked away, Lola felt the faintest graze of the woman's fingers around her dark coiled tresses.

Under any other circumstance, she would not have let the woman walk away with those fingers intact. But in her hollow state, she just nodded and began to read the menu.

The noise around her was steady, soothing almost. Although the small restaurant wasn't packed, it was decently busy. Small clusters of patrons sat around their tables and booths, engaged in conversation as Lola searched the menu for something, anything , to satiate her growling stomach.

The low din echoed around her, curling itself around her ears and warming her. Other people's lives were moving on around her. She found comfort in that simple fact. The world was moving on, even if she'd felt like hers was crumbling so fast.

She grinned as a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The last time she felt so detached from her own life was the second time she'd ever met Roman.

 _Charlotte, North Carolina_

 _2 Years Prior_

Buzzing.

Tingling sensations rattled at Lola's fingertips and toes. Every end of her body was on fire, and she couldn't believe she had just seen her mother in a casket. It was a sight no child should ever have to see, and yet there she was, 23 years old, and in a black dress moments after the longest two hours of her life.

The embalming had turned her mother's vibrant and deep tone into a pale and distant one. Burn scars creeped up the sides of her neck, revealing her cause of death. A high collar and makeup could not hide these facts, and Lola's careful eyes were aware of that. She looked nothing like the real Etta Blanc. Disgust crept up Lola's throat in the form of thick bile as she watched the small crowd of distant family members walk by and pay their respects.

She swallowed it down and smiled coyly as they passed by with pity. Lola already knew what bar she was going to after the service. She would have drowned her sorrows in a bottle alone at home, but figured the Blanc clan would benefit from not having to go to a second tragic funeral, and so soon.

 _Ike's_ was Lola's go-to at the time. She usually frequented the dive bar after particularly tough shifts at _Tally Ho's._ And rough shifts were in no short supply. Of course, in retrospect, Tally Ho's was her first strip club ever. It had been only a few months since she'd started working there, but it was a constant cycle of being angry at the world, and loving it all for the money it brought her.

Lola plopped down at her usual spot along the sticky marble bar top and knocked the table twice to get the attention of Tully, the bartender. The large balding man glanced over his shoulder and nodded at her solemnly, acknowledging her funeral attire. Wordlessly he began pouring her a whiskey, neat.

She sipped at the drink slowly, letting the warm sting and dryness slink down her throat in gulps. Little conversation buzzed around her, a group of men at the pool table began arguing about who's turn it was, an older man laughed at his young date's joke, a lesbian couple quietly sang along with the jukebox in the corner. Their lives were as rich and full as Lola's, and she smiled in the comfort of that simple fact.

 _At least they're happy._

"What you smiling at, pretty lady?" A vaguely familiar deep voice came from beside Lola.

She cast a sideward glance at the imposing figure next to her. She couldn't forget that handsome russet toned face, and that inky black hair.

Roman.

"Just life." She replied casually, before taking another sip.

He eyed her carefully, and motioned at the bartender to refill her glass. A small smile stretched his lips.

"You're dressed like someone just died."

It was obviously meant as a joke. But he was sorely unaware of his terrible timing. The smile from her lips vanished instantly. Anger simmered in her for a moment, but then passed just as quickly.

He didn't know. There was no way he could. They had only met each other a week ago in this very spot at the bar.

"My- my-" She choked on the words. Saying them may make them a reality in her mind. She still wanted to live in a state of disbelief. "Someone did die."

Roman's face stretched and contracted through a series of expressions. Shock, Embarrassment, Pity, Remorse. The emotions hung heavy in the air as he searched in vain for the right words to apologize for the misstep, regain his composure, and console the obviously upset woman.

He was only able to mutter one word.

"Shit."

The air about them hung heavy. She could tell he wrestled with what to do next, obviously feeling the gravity of his clumsy joke. She sighed and patted the stool beside her.

"Sit down, I ain't even worried about you."

The two sat in silence for a while.

"What you doin here? Thought you said you was only in town for business." Lola finally broke the tension. She never lifted her eyes from her glass.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning, actually."

"LA, right?"

"Yeah, got a promotion of sorts."

A stiff chuckle escaped Lola's lips. "Got any room in your suitcase for me? I need to get the fuck outta here."

It was Roman's turn to laugh now. He stole a quick sideward glance at the woman, the statement may have been a simple joke, but he knew there was a hint of truth to it. She looked miserable.

"Well, hey, I know we've only met a few days ago. But if you really need to get outta here, I could see about getting you out to LA for a few days."

Lola's gaze peeled away from her empty glass and landed on Roman. Her brows pinched together, and an amused grin stretched her lips.

"Okay boy, what you want? You a serial killer or somethin'? You ain't about to take a stranger to LA for no damn reason."

Roman paused, contemplating her words for their truth. She was a stranger. He'd only spotted her in that bar last week, and while their conversation was memorable, he never worked up the nerve to ask for her number, or ask her out. He was surprised to find her this time around, and maybe he was just over compensating for his lack of action the first time they met.

He gnawed at his lip briefly before doubling down on his offer.

"I mean it, no funny business. My friend's a pilot, he's always hooking me up with stand-by tickets. Getting you out there ain't a problem." There was a brief pause before he quickly added "You just would need to find a place to stay. I'd offer, but I'm crashing with my boy Dean while I move into my new place out there."

Her brows raised, she studied the scratched wood of the bartop while she weighed her options. A man she'd only met last week was offering her a free ticket to the other side of the country. Far from her mother's burial, from her charred and dilapidated childhood home, from the thick and heavy cloud that will always hang over Charlotte, North Carolina.

"I got 800 dollars in my purse right now." A slow, slurry of a southern drawl came from Lola. "I was supposed to pay rent with it. But I feel like I ain't got nothin else left for me here. So I tell you what."

She reached into her purse and retrieved a large wad of cash, and slammed it onto the bar top before Roman.

"If you can tell me right now that this money will get me a place in LA, then you can make it a one-way ticket."

A wide grin stretched Roman's lips.

"I can't make you any promises about getting a place that cheap. But what I can promise you, is that you will easily make that much in one night working at my club."

"Oh really?"

"If you don't make 800 your first night working at my club, then I will personally pay you that 800 and get you a ticket back out here."

"Aight big shot." Lola jutted her hand out for a handshake. "You got yourself a deal."

 _Present Day_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

 _"_ Excuse me _. Excuse me!"_

A gruff male voice pulled Lola back into the present. She immediately snapped back to the source of the aggressive tone.

"What?" She snarled. When she spun around to the man, she expected him to recoil, or even flinch just a little bit. Instead, she was met with a tall, broad man with a two-toned, coily mane. A cocky grin stayed on his lips, he only raised his brows at Lola's outburst.

"You dropped your cards." The man held up her credit card and ID.

Her eyes narrowed before she snatched the cards away from him. She turned back in her seat, to face the diner's bar again before the man could say anything else to her.

But even with her back to him, he continued to speak.

"I couldn't help but notice your last name. Blanc… You wouldn't happen to be related to an Etta Blanc, would you?"

Lola's felt her body flinch in response to her mother's name. It was the last thing she was expecting to hear, especially in some random diner thousands of miles away from her home. She didn't speak, unsure who the hell this man was, and how the hell he knew who her late mother was.

"I'll take your reaction as a resounding 'yes'." He snorted " Lemme guess, your… her niece? Daughter? Baby sister?"

"I don't know who you are, and I don't care. I just need you to keep her name outta yo god damn mouth and get the fuck away from me." The words were guttural, coming from somewhere deep, and spoken through clenched teeth. She didn't even bother turning around in her chair to reprimand the stranger.

"As you wish, _Caroline_." He purred, before leaving her.

As soon as she was sure he was no longer behind her, she gathered her purse and bolted out of that diner. Her flesh prickled and tensed as she felt herself breathe again.

Who was that? And how the hell did he know her mother?


	8. Chapter 8

"So, you're meaning to tell me that you haven't found Flair yet?" Kenny Omega wiped remaining crumbs from his short beard, never taking a calculating eye off of Cody Rhodes.

The two men sat facing each other in their usual booth at Minnie's Diner, Matt and Nick Jackson sat between them. They seemed to be tempering an already tense situation, they tried in vain to keep the conversation light. However, their plucky comedic relief was not enough to sever the intensity that simmered between Cody and Kenny.

Cody's eyes shifted down to his half-eaten plate of ham and eggs. He half-heartedly pushed around the food with his fork, arranging the cold clumps of egg around the slab of ham meticulously. He was hoping for anything but this conversation. But when Kenny invited him to Minnie's alone, he knew that there was only one thing to talk about.

"Cody." Kenny said, the word was finite, sharp, commanding. Like a parent poised to discipline their child.

Cody's gaze drifted from his plate to the door, a light tinny jingle rang above it as a woman walked in. No doubt a stripper from her outfit. The tight grip of deja-vu came about him as he studied the woman's face. She reminded him of Brandi, just a much less classy version of her. He's seen this woman before, if only briefly in his past.

"Its not the end of the week yet, Ken. You said the end of the week. Trust me, I've got a plan." Cody said cooly. He was at ease, knowing his wife Brandi was on her way to the Shield as they spoke. If any thing was going to find out Ric Flair's location, it would be those full lips and doe-eyes hidden beneath thick lashes.

"I sure hope you do." A wicked grin played at the edges of Kenny's lips as he pushed away his empty plate.

The tension constricted around the four of them in that booth as silence filled the space. Matt nudged Nick, hoping his older brother would have something to say to ease it.

"Matt and I will take care of the check, boys. Why don't you bring the car around front, Codester?" Nick chirped as the table shook rhythmically beneath them. He clutched his brother's knee when he realized it was bouncing erratically.

"I got it." Kenny slid out of the booth and made his way to the counter, filing through the thick stack of bills in his wallet. His body tilted backwards suddenly as he felt the loss of control in his step. He was slipping, and soon to fall on the scuffed and dirtied linoleum tiles. He steadied himself quickly, and looked down to see the culprit of his misstep: two cards on the ground. It looked to be an ID and credit card. He picked them up and inspected them briefly before catching the last name on both.

Blanc.

Eyes wild, he searched the diner for the woman in the ID picture, and was pleased to find her sitting only 2 seats down on the counter.

"Who's Kenny talking to?" Matt asked as he slid further away from his brother in the booth.

"No idea. Maybe he's recruiting for the club." Nick replied, not bothering to stare at the two.

"I don't think so." Gravity came to Cody's voice as he watched them intently. The woman looked defensive, ready to strike, but her eyes betrayed her true emotions. She was terrified. "What ever that bastard is saying to her, is threatening. I mean, look at her."

The exchange between Kenny and the woman ended when Kenny walked to the cashier. She quickly bolted out of the diner, shaken.

"He has no regard for professionalism. This is not how a leader behaves!" Cody waved a flippant hand toward Kenny "We need someone who isn't going to fly off the handle at any moment. Someone who doesn't go up to random women and make them run away, terrified."

Nick and Matt exchanged amused looks at each other, communicating in a way only siblings can.

"You still got your panties in a bunch after Kenny pulled that gun on you huh?" Matt chuckled, standing up from the booth and loosening his belt.

"Are you kidding me? You think that was funny?" Spittle flew from Cody's lips as he eyed the brothers across from him. "I could have been killed by the maniac and you think thats _funny_?"

Nick threw his hands up in defense, while Matt laughed loudly, holding his stomach with his hearty laugh.

"Unbelieveable." Cody muttered under his breath, pushing out of the booth and striding toward Kenny.

"I said I would pay, Cody, no need to step up to the plate now." Kenny quipped as he retrieved the receipt from the cashier.

"Who was that? She ran out of here like she'd seen a ghost."

"That was the key to us finding Ric Flair, and subsequently that 3 million he owes us."

"And how is some random stripper going to help us?"

"You'll see in due time, Cody. No need to worry about finding him, I've gotten taken care of from here." Kenny turned to him and patted his smooth cheek stiffly, just enough to be aggressive. With that, he turned and left the diner, leaving Cody to stew in his anger.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone around?" Brandi Rhodes took her first tentative step into the Shield, and was underwhelmed with the sight around her. She'd always heard Cody going on about the club had been their rival for years, but she never imagined such a dilapidated place to be in the same running as The Bullet Club. Her eyes scanned the dark and empty floor, searching for any sign of life.

She hugged her fur jacket around herself tighter, shivering from the AC on full blast in the place.

"H-Hello?" A deep voice called from somewhere in the back, Brandi squinted to see the source of the call. "Can I help you miss?"

Roman emerged from the back hallway, his eyes hit the ceiling when he saw Brandi shivering by the front door. He wasn't expecting anyone in the club for at least a few hours, and he had no idea who this beautiful woman was. His eyes traced the curve of her long legs, smooth and a deep rich brown. Next he took in her small frame, practically drowning in a white fur coat she had strapped around her tightly. His eyes lingered on the elegant lines of her face for a moment before he snapped out of his daze.

"Yes, I came for a cocktail waitress job. My name is Brandi." She rushed through the sentence.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Brandi smacked her forehead with her palm when she realized how obviously nervous she was. There was no way they were going to buy this, Cody was going to be so disappointed.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, trying to channel her pageant school speech exercises.

 _Pause._

 _Breathe._

 _Speak._

 _"_ I'm sorry. My name is Brandi." She held out her hand to shake. "I was here to inquire about possibly cocktail waitressing?"

He took her delicate hand in his and shook, a tentative gaze met hers. She couldn't help but notice how handsome he was, and that firm shake sprung a coy smile to her lips.

"We erm- We don't have cocktail waiters here, I'm sorry." He frowned, still trying to puzzle why this woman was standing in the Shield, asking to work there of all things. She held herself like royalty, especially compared to the other girls that worked there.

"Oh! I should have mentioned this first, I was sent by Ric. He owed me a favor and I've been down on my luck for a while."

Roman's demeanor changed at the mention of Ric.

"Ric sent you?" He quirked a brow, offering her a seat at a nearby table. She nodded and took the seat graciously, lowering herself onto the grimy chair with the grace of a queen.

"Yeah, he said it wouldn't be an issue." She rushed on "Pressures really been on to make a decent living, especially with the baby on the way and all." She was laying it on thick, just as Cody had told her to. While she never actually acted a day in her life, she felt the rush of performance as she spun her tale.

"You're pregnant." He cast a quick glance at her torso and frowned when all he saw was the mass of fur from her coat covering it.

"Only 5 weeks. The bastard up and left when he found out, and now I need to find a way to make money, fast. Ric said I'd be welcome to cocktail here until I was able to find something a little more…" She intentionally paused and lifted her gaze from the floor to meet Roman's. Her dark lashes made her stare more alluring. "…becoming of a mother-to-be."

He cleared his throat.

"Well I guess if Ric sent you here, we can't turn you away, can we?" Roman broke into a full smile. "I'm sorry to hear about your situation, though. If theres anything I can do to help you, please let me know."

"I sure will, once I know your name, handsome stranger."

"Where are my manners? Roman, my name's Roman."

"Roman. I like it, it suits you." She batted her lashes and lightly brushed her hand along his tattooed forearm. "Well, Roman. When do I start?"

Humidity hung heavy in the air. A sticky film formed over all of the surfaces in Lola's apartment, and she felt as if she could barely breathe. She lay curled up in the corner of her futon, her brown face illuminated by the fluorescence of her laptop. She was typing away furiously, eyes practically crossing at how intently she was staring at the screen.

The door to her studio opened with a slow creak. She didn't bother to look up from the screen. She knew it was Seth.

"You're home late." She muttered, dragging a photo of herself to a website.

"You seemed like you needed some time to yourself." Seth's voice was quiet in the darkness. "Roman was being a bit of a dick to you."

She only snorted in response.

A small smile pulled at Seth's lips. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he made his slow stroll over to her, sitting down beside her as if he were trying not to stir a beast.

"Hey." He ducked his head low, hoping to catch her gaze. When she didn't turn to face him, he continued "Whatever he said, he's just not over you, you know. The guy acts like he's the big dog but you and I both know he's too sensitive for his own good. He still loves you."

And in that moment there was a brief pause in the click-clacking of Lola's keyboard. She held her breath, staring blankly at the screen. She didn't know how to process it. Because although what Seth said may have been true, it sounded less like he was talking about Roman, and more like it was Seth speaking.

 _This boy better not be falling for me. Not now. Not when I got shit to figure out._

"Seth, listen, I know we been living together or whatever, but-"

"I know what you're going to say… I know I joke around a lot, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't care about you, Lol." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I just want you to know I'm here, and I'm not letting you get evicted."

He pulled out a wad of bills and handed it to her. Her eyes widened at the sight.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Rent for this month, and next month."

"Stop playin."

"I'm not. Take it." He pressed her fingers over the bills and kissed her hand.

"Nuh uh. Where'd you get this from?" She pushed the wad back into his chest before standing and folding her arms, playing the part of a demanding mother.

"I pulled some strings, talked to Deano, and got an advance." He stood to meet her, a lazy grin came to his face. "Now will you take it? I'd hate to have to wrestle you down and make you."

She took an instinctive step back, suddenly realizing how close Seth was to her. His threat wouldn't be too hard to follow through with.

"Dean doesn't just give advances. The boy don't do favors, he does deals. Now what are you doing for him in exchange?"

"Lola, just take the money, okay? I'm trying to make sure you don't get evicted, and here you are refusing it." He held out the bills.

Lola's eyes narrowed to slits as she came to a realization.

"You selling for him?"

"What?"

"You doing his dirty work, selling that shit for him. I know it."

"He approached me after we left you and Ro to talk, its not that big a deal. Plus it will help me pay back the debt I owe the club."

Lola sighed deeply and shook her head. "Keep ya dirty money Seth, I've got a way to make rent. Don't worry."

"What? Escorting? Like that money's any cleaner."

"At least the chances of me catching a case are way lower. And I don't gotta worry about no greasy manager taking advantage. I'm going into business on my own." She smiled and lightly kicked her computer screen to face Seth. It revealed the beginnings of a profile on .

"You really think this'll work, huh?" Seth gestured to the screen.

She nodded.

In the silence Lola could hear the soft rise and fall of Seth's breath. She wasn't that close to him, but could still catch the faint scent of his Old Spice cologne. She eyed his face for any hint of what he could be thinking, and suddenly found herself bracing for criticism.

 _Hold up, why do I care what this clown thinks?_

"Well, if you're going to go through with this, you're going to need a better set of pictures for your profile."

"Excuse me?"

Lola looked down at the screen. Her face was slightly rounder then, she'd lost some weight in the time since she spontaneously moved to LA. She was clad in a pink see-through number and a distasteful feather boa draped along her shoulders. Her body lay draped across a couch, long legs splayed open suggestively.

"You heard me, the ones you have there are at least 2 years old. I'm the one who took them for you when you first started at the club. Remember?" Seth closed the space between them in a smooth stride. Lola retreated one step.

"Of course I do, Ro broke your nose for that."

"And yet the pictures are still front and center on the Shield's website because _he_ never took any more of you." He stepped forward again.

"What _ever._ I don't need new pictures-"

He paced towards her quickly, and she back-stepped in time with him. The two looked as if they were perfectly choreographed tango dancers. The dance stopped when Lola's back was pressed against the wall, and there was no where else to go. His hands anchored on either side of her head against the wall.

"You won't take my money, so let me at least do this for you Lol. Let me take your pictures." His voice dropped into a dangerously low tone.

She gulped and tried to keep her eyes anywhere but his lips.

"Fine." She huffed, pushing him back away from her. It was a feeble attempt, but Seth took the hint and stepped back, allowing her out of the cage he made with his imposing body.


	9. Chapter 9

Lola and Seth sat side-by-side on her futon as they looked through her old pictures. There weren't too many pictures to look through, but there was a lingering feeling cast across every single one of her expressions in that shoot. Her dark brows were slightly pinched together, lips tense, eyes vacant.

She was nervous.

And Lola knew exactly why she was nervous in those photos. She remembered that day vividly.

 _Los Angeles, California_

 _2 Years Prior_

Lola felt as if she could barely breathe in the small office Roman left her in. The humidity hung heavy, and stuck to her skin and hair. Lola's breathlessness was not uncommon since she'd flown to Los Angeles on a whim only a week ago with a complete stranger.

The weather had been unrelenting, but the uncertainty of her life decisions were also weighing on her every breath. What was she doing in the Shield, wearing the ugliest pink lingerie she'd ever seen? What was she doing, living with a man she had met at a bar only weeks ago?

She didn't know. The only thing she knew for sure was that the only person who loved and cared for her was in the ground after a tragic fire. Her mother was gone, and Lola was lost.

And now she was thousands of miles from her grave, getting ready to take pictures on a dusty old couch for a strip club.

Lola stifled a laugh when she realized she hadn't even officially quit her strip club back home. She had been in such a hurry to leave, she completely forgot to tell her old manager.

Her laughter was cut short when she heard a knocking on the office door, followed by a nasal voice.

"Hey, you decent in there?" The voice called.

Lola frowned when she couldn't recognize the voice. She paced over to the door and slowly creaked it open, peering through its sliver to see a tall man with dark hair and thick dark beard. He was handsome, and Lola couldn't deny that simple fact. She pulled the door open more and offered the stranger a small smile.

His brows raised, and he greeted her with a mischievous smirk of his own.

"Seth." He offered a hand for a shake. She cautiously took it. " I'm taking your pictures." He waved his camera in his other hand. A few beats passed before his eyes took the languid and leisurely path from Lola's manicured toes to her timid and curious face.

Feeling the weight of his gaze, Lola stepped back and allowed Seth into the office. She and Roman hadn't ever discussed their relationship at that point. She didn't want to really, it was complicated to say the least, she barely knew him, and yet there she was living with him. They hadn't even kissed and yet she still felt a mutual possession. He was hers and she was his. This unspoken agreement made Seth's lustful glances feel slightly uncomfortable. Only slightly, because he wasn't crossing any lines. Lines hadn't even been drawn yet.

"And your name?" Seth interrupted her thoughts.

"Caroline. But call me Lola."

"Well, pleasure to meet you Lola" He practically purred her name, and suddenly she felt her breathing become even more labored. "Why don't we get these pictures out the way? We'll start on the couch."

Lola couldn't tell if she was just hyper sensitive due to her nerves, or if every single word Seth spoke dripped with innuendo. She shook her head and wiped her palms on the sheer pink fabric that barely covered her caramel skin. Sitting on the couch, she cycled through the same poses she used for her last shoot back in Charlotte.

Half way through the photos Seth leaned back and reviewed the pictures he had just taken. His handsome face warped into a frown. Lola immediately frowned.

"Whats wrong?"

"You just look so… stiff."

Her frown deepened. "What you mean? I done this before, I ain't stiff."

"Well, honey, that certainly doesn't show in these pictures." He stood and sat beside her on the couch. Lola couldn't tell if he was intentionally sitting so close to her, or if the couch was just not as big as she thought it was. She caught a whiff of his Old Spice, he must have just showered, his hair was slick with wetness. "Look at these."

He tapped through the pictures. Lola couldn't deny, she looked uncomfortable sitting on that old couch in such provocative poses. Her face pinched with apprehension, was she scared?

"Okay, well, I don't know what to tell you. This ain't exactly the most professional looking place to be taking pictures." Lola threw her hands up to gesture at the dingy office.

"True, but most guys on the site aren't looking at the decor, if you catch my drift." He glanced at her, his eyes lingered on her chest, catching a glimpse of her plunging cleavage.

Lola crossed her legs and leaned away from Seth.

"You're selling sex appeal, sweetheart. Not nervousness in a feather boa. You want the guys out there to come to this club to see _you?_ Then you better exude sex, from your picture to your presence."

Lola snorted. "You don't know what you talking about, boy. I throw this on and I barely gotta move to make my money." She gestured to her sheer lace.

Seth laughed along with her. Their laughs faded into silence as his gaze reached hers. His lids were heavy with lust, not unlike any of the men she had danced for in the past. Lola recognized that look anywhere, it was the look of possession. Had he been a caveman he would have taken her right then and there. The silence hung in the air, as thick as the humidity in the room.

"Have you auditioned yet?" He asked his voice fell an octave or two.

"Roman didn't say I had to. He knew I worked at a club back home." She picked at a stray hot pink thread at the edge of her garter.

"So you haven't auditioned."

She shook her head and chewed her bottom lip.

"Well, why don't we go through the auction process before we even get to these pictures?" He tossed the camera on the couch casually, his eyes practically glued to Lola's.

She held her breath now, wondering what lines were being crossed now, and why she wanted to cross them so badly. This wasn't like any other audition she had done before, both of them knew it.

"How about we start with a dance? What do you do when a customer asks for one?"

A challenging grin spread across her heavily glossed lips. "I give him one."

That earned a low chuckle from Seth. "Congrats, you passed the interview portion of the audition." He reached over and softly grasped her wrist. "Now show me."

She stood and began her slow and sensual dance for him. Bending over, gyrating to the phantom music in her head, she captivated him entirely. This wasn't an audition, this was an exercise in seduction. Who was going to break the facade first?

He reached out and snaked his hands around the curve of her hips. Grasping them firmly, he guided her body down to his on the couch. She straddled him, never breaking eye contact on her descent. Her gyrations on his lap roused a firm response from his member. He bit his lip as his hands travelled up her spine. She felt goosebumps prickle along her skin as her breathing became easier for the first time since she had arrived in Los Angeles.

"I don't know if I'm quite convinced." He said huskily.

"Oh yeah?" Lola asked, leaning forward to meet her lips with his own.

"The fuck?" Roman's familiar deep voice boomed from behind the two. Neither of them had noticed that there had been a knocking from the other side of the office, let alone heard Roman come in to the small room.

Lola quickly sprang from Seth's lap and instinctively crossed her arms across her chest.

"The fuck is going on here? I told you we needed a few photos, what-"

"Ro, its just an audition! Calm down!" She sputtered, noticing the flare of his nostrils.

"Audition? Who the fuck said anything about an audition?"

" Come on man, just testing out the merchandise before buying." Seth adjusted his boner with a knowing grin on his lips.

What came next, no one could have anticipated. Roman's large fist connected with Seth's face, an audible snap echoed through the room.

"Fuck!"

"You ever talk about her like that again I'll break your fuckin' jaw. You understand me?"

And with that he grabbed Lola's hand in his own and stormed out of the office. Lola turned back only to see a red, dripping mess coming from Seth's nose.

 _Present Day,_

 _Los Angeles_

The tension between the two never seemed to leave, but when Lola saw Roman break Seth's nose she knew that the relationship they had was more than just friends, and she would have to be particularly careful around Seth. Despite her and Roman not being together now, she still felt she had to keep her distance, and she couldn't pin point why.

Looking at her pictures, she couldn't help but smile remembering that day. In hindsight, that was hilarious.

"What are you smiling at?" Seth asked, stealing a gaze at her sideways.

"I'm just remembering the way Ro popped yo ass for touching me." She cackled now. "He was quick with it." She jabbed the air with a left hook, mocking him.

"Funny, cause I remember you being the one leaning in for a kiss."

"Boy, please. You was all over me." She snorted.

"I was only conducting a professional audition."

She shook her head and laughed, returning her attention to the computer screen before them. She clicked on a previous tab, revealing a Google search from earlier that day.

 _Los Angeles Police Reports_

"Looking up local crimes?" Seth teased.

"Nah…" Her voice suddenly became small as she recalled her strange and scary encounter with the stranger at the diner she went to earlier that day. "I was lookin for somebody."

"Who?"

"I don't even know. This weird dude came up to me at this diner and he knew my mom."

She felt Seth's breathing come to a halt. "What?"

"Yeah, he… He knew her name and knew I was her daughter, and I was freaked the fuck out. I dropped my cards and he started talking to me… So I was looking through the mugshots to see if … I don't even know."

"What- " Seth cleared his throat "What did this guy look like?"

"He was blonde, had really curly hair, had a short beard, really big, like muscles."

Seth was silent, his expression hard.

"Were you at Minnie's?"

"I don't even remember, I just went to the diner down close to the club."

She noticed a bead of sweat forming on Seth's smooth forehead. This is the most flustered she had seen the man in a long time. Whatever he knew, he was terrified of it.

"What is it?"

"No- Nothing. Nothing. You stay here, alright? Don't leave." Seth immediately sprung from the futon and went for the door.

"Nuhuh, you ain't about to leave here like that. Tell me what you know? Do you know who I'm talking bout?" She just as quickly sprung after him.

"No. I just- I gotta go. You stay here. Okay? Don't leave. I'm serious Lola." He grabbed her by her arms and pushed her away from the door. "I'll be back. But I just need you to stay here."

Before she could open her mouth to protest, he was out of her apartment. Worry started to settle in Lola's stomach, Seth knew something, and she had to find out what.

"Did you hear me Cody? Baby, I got in! I'm a cocktail waitress at the club, just like you said!" Brandi Rhodes beamed, her delicate fingers smoothed over the fabric of her husband's button up.

"I heard you, Brandi." He gnawed on his thumb nail and stared down at his laptop. The dark lighting of their study cast a long shadow over his brow as he scrolled through pictures of scantily clad women.

"Okay… So what's wrong? Didn't you say me getting into the club was going to get you Ric Flair's money?" She pouted, beginning to knead his shoulders, feeling them tense under her fingers.

"It was, up until that imbecile Kenny met some stripper at Minnie's and told me to stop looking for Flair."

"What?"

"Yeah, he went up to some random stripper, she stormed off, and he came back confident that he had found our ticket to 3 million. But of course the bastard won't tell any of us what she has to do with Ric."

"Is that why you're looking through stripper's profiles on redlight?" She gestured to the screen. Normally, she would feel a pang of jealousy, but looking at the women on the screen, she knew she had no competition for her husband's affection.

"Yeah, I need to find out who the bitch is that de-railed my plans."

Brandi felt her heart sink the slightest bit. Her little reconnaissance mission at the Shield was exhilarating, and having that Roman fellow to look at while working was not a bad perk to the job. If Cody called off her ploy, she would be back to looking for matching pillow cases, and getting mani-pedis with women she hated. She couldn't let this go.

"Screw what Kenny says. You said it yourself, he's a terrible leader of the Club. I'll keep working at the Shield, and get close to them. We can find out where Ric Flair is hiding and get the money ourselves."

Cody was silent for a moment, then turned to the beautiful woman behind him. "You are so right, baby. Fuck Kenny. We can do this. _I_ can do this." He pulled her into his lap and planted a rough kiss on her lips.

She grinned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as she straddled him in the office chair.


	10. Chapter 10

Radio silence.

Lola hadn't heard or seen Seth in 2 days. She paced back and forth in her studio, kicking stray makeup containers and crumbs as she checked her phone incessantly. She called and texted Seth, only to receive short two-worded texts.

 _Stay home._

 _Im Okay_

 _Dont leave._

 _Its Dangerous._

Normally Lola wouldn't heed his advice, but in this situation, she found herself staying in her studio, ordering takeout for every meal. She alternated between pacing and perching beside her window, staring at the street below, looking for the dark-haired man.

However, after two days of waiting, she decided to get some answers. The sun was coming down to end the second day of silence and confusion. She dialed Dean's number. He wasn't the type to shy away from the truth like Seth.

He answered on the first ring.

"Hey Lola, you okay?" His voice was a little more tense than usual.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I've been cooped up in my apartment cause Seth says I can't leave. What the fuck is going on?"

"I can't say, Lola. Just don't leave your place."

"No. Fuck that. Y'all better start telling me whats going on or Imma leave."

"That's ill-advised. Listen, we'll explain everything in a bit. We just need to take care of some things first."

"What _things_ Dean? I don't like being in the dark. Whats so dangerous about leaving my house?"

"Lola. Please, for the love of God. Don't leave. We will explain everything, but if you want to stay alive, you better lay low and stay in." And with that, Dean hung up.

A wave of anger coursed through her. How did these men end up such an integral part of her life? Why were they able to keep her prisoner in her own home? And most importantly, why did she let them get this involved?

She scowled at the idea of those three sitting around, plotting and planning while keeping her in her home, unable to make money, unable to eat what she wants when she wants, unable to do anything but worry about some mysterious danger lurking outside of her apartment.

"Fuck that." She muttered, grabbing her laptop and opening the Redlight page she never completed. She angrily typed and tapped as she finished her profile, keeping the old pictures that Seth took 2 years prior.

She was going to make money, at the very least. And she was going to do that without having to depend on any of those three for it. She was going escort her way into a better apartment, a better lifestyle, a better life, one where she wasn't held to the whims and rules of the Shield and it's managers.

Lola felt she regained some control over her life when she pressed the Submit button. She warily peered out the window once more, searching for that invisible danger they were so sure of.

"I say we go over there." Seth said, massaging his brows as he leaned back in the creaky office chair.

The office was the only room in the club with lights on. The Shield had officially closed its doors for the first time in years. The club that was notoriously known for even being open on Christmas, had been closed for two days. The three owners of the club sat inside, plotting on what to do next.

"I tend to not agree with reckless gambling addicts, but I have to side with Seth on this one. They clearly know about her. We can't risk anything." Dean chimed in from his usual spot on the couch.

"You realize the second we go over there, we give them a reason to retaliate?" Roman growled, pressing his head against the wall. "Call Triple H, Call Batista. Fuck, even call Orton. Let them handle the Bullet Club. They ain't our problem."

"May I remind you, when they passed the club down to us, they told us never to contact them about anything involving the club?" Seth quipped.

"This has nothing to do with the club. This has to do with Flair. He finds out the Bullet Club know _anything_ about Lola, he will kill us for not keeping her out of their sight." Dean replied. "We have to go over there and tell them to fuck off. If Ric finds out we did nothing and they find her again…"

Roman began bouncing his head against the hard wall. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to reconcile his thoughts.

"If we're going to go over there, we have to do this the right way. I'm not fucking around with those leather-wearing bastards." Roman finally said after a long pause. He pushed away from the wall and took a long stride back to his desk. He pulled a key out of his back pocket and opened a drawer in the desk, revealing three handguns, looking as new as the day they were purchased.

"We go over there, and we let them know we're serious." He pulled a black pistol out from the drawer and examined it thoughtfully. "After that, I'm going to help her pack her shit, she'll be moving in with me. I will keep watch over her. Seth, you stay with Dean until he gets sick of you, or we figure out this bullshit, whichever comes first."

Seth stood from his seat and pulled out a gun from the drawer. "You so sure she'll want to move back in with you, Roman?"

"She was just in here two days ago talking about how she still loved me. Of course she'll be okay with moving back in with me. What the fuck is it to you, anyway?" Roman's gaze locked with Seth's the tension rose until Dean stood up and retrieved his gun from the desk.

"Okay, alpha-one and alpha-two, you guys want to compare our dicks and have that determine who gets to fuck Lola?" He snorted.

"This isn't about _fucking_ Lola." Roman snarled, pushing Dean away from him. "It about keeping her safe. She doesn't have a choice. We don't know what Kenny and his boys are up to, and she's safest at my place."

"Why's that?" Seth challenged.

"Because Dean is drug dealer. God knows who else is looking out for him, we can't get Lola involved in any crossfire."

" _Former_ Drug dealer. My place is safe, I wouldn't let my wife live there if it weren't." Dean tucked the gun in his back pocket. "But I won't argue with our fearless leader. If he wants to get his nut, I have no objections. As long as Ric Flair isn't going to kill us, I could care less." With that, he left the room.

Seth's jaw twitched as he glared at Roman.

"Don't worry about where she's staying. And don't worry about me and her, it ain't none of your fucking business. And never was." He spat the last words before following Dean out of the office.

Fuming, Seth followed behind him, clutching onto his gun until his knuckles turned a visceral white.

Kenny sat at his desk, his eyes transfixed on the bright laptop screen on his large wooden desk. He scrolled through the Redlight pages, looking desperately for the Caroline Blanc he met at the diner only days prior. He obsessively refreshed the pages, checking on his phone before he went to bed and as soon as he woke every morning.

He had to find Caroline Blanc.

"Hey Ken, we're heading on our break. Candace said she's leaving early, so here's her —" Matt and Nick Jackson stood in the doorway of Kenny's office.

"Shhh!" Kenny snapped. "What happened to knocking first? Did I not make it clear that I absolutely cannot be interrupted for any reason what-so-ever?"

"Sorry, man we forgot. We'll leave you be." Nick quickly replied, closing the door just as swiftly without another word. He knew if he left the door open long enough his mischievous brother would take the opportunity to be make a smart-ass comment. With the mood Kenny had been in lately, any off-color comment could earn them a bullet between the eyes.

Kenny shook his head and continued his search, scrolling intently through the profiles of the escorts, prostitutes, strippers and entertainers. LA was a big place, but Kenny was intent on finding her.

Moments later, the door to his office swung open again. The three members of the Shield stood in the doorway, each member clad in black from head to toe.

Upon recognizing his new visitors, he immediately stood. Two ornate pistols seemingly materialized out of thin air and into each of his hands.

"And what do I owe this pleasant visit from the legendary Shield?" Kenny said cooly, aiming his guns at Seth and Dean.

The three men pulled out their guns and aimed them at Kenny in response. Their faces were stoic and focused, while Kenny greeted them all with a strangely welcoming smile.

"You know exactly why the fuck we're here, Kenny." Roman spoke, stepping forward.

"I'm sorry to say I don't." Kenny feigned a pout before cocking the pistols simultaneously. "Step in and close the door, boys. Lets chat."

"This isn't a social call, Omega. We're here to deliver a simple message. Leave Lola alone." Seth spoke through clenched teeth.

"We've got friends in high places, buddy. Don't think for a moment you've got us outnumbered with your little bullet bitches." Dean added.

Kenny laughed in response. "Lola, Lola, Lola… Name doesn't really ring any bells for me. I have no idea who you're talking about, but she sounds like quite the gal-"

"Cut the shit, Omega. This is a message from the Shield, from Evolution, and from Ric Flair his fucking self. Stay. Away. From. Her." Roman snapped, before forcefully kicking down an ornate vase by the door, sending it crashing into a thousand small shards. Roman backed away, gun still poised on Kenny's face until he was out of sight.

Dean and Seth followed suit, leaving Kenny alone in his office, adrenalin pumping through his veins, and a broken vase scattered across his floor.

As if perfectly timed, his laptop chimed with a notification from Redlight. Another profile had just been added to the site. Kenny lowered his guns to see the name of the newest woman added to the roster.

Lola Blanc.


	11. Chapter 11

Lola fell asleep beside her laptop and her phone. She watched as the messages flooded into her account for Redlight, but gripped her phone and checked it just as often for a message or call from any of the boys. Was she really this dependent on them? She shouldn't be even worried about what they had to say. Yet, her attention oscillated between her two screens until her eyes were too heavy to keep open.

She woke the next morning to 3 missed calls from Roman, and another 4 from Seth. She also saw she was offered $3,000 for an outing with a mystery John on Redlight. The message was the only one that had more than 2 digits in the request. It was a simple message:

 _Meet at Hotel Lafayette. Noon?_

Lola of course accepted the request, and found she had only an hour to get ready for her first appointment. She scrambled to the bathroom and stepped into her shower, furiously scrubbing and rinsing. Just as she finished her quick shower, she heard a loud pounding on her door.

She wrapped her towel around her and stood beside the door. Suddenly Dean and Seth's warnings of leaving her house were loud in her head.

"Who is it?" She called.

"Its Roman." His deep voice answered from the other side.

She rolled her eyes and opened the door, blocking his view from seeing straight into her messy apartment. "What you want?"

"Listen, Lo, I need you to come with me. Grab your stuff." His voice was urgent, he stepped forward, ready to enter her space.

She quickly held out a hand to press him back.

"Nuh uh. You ain't coming in here. And I ain't going no where with you." She wagged a finger in his face. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I'll explain later. Please Lola, just grab your stuff and come with me." His brows pinched with worry, his eyes pleaded with hers.

"No." She crossed her arms over her chest, the towel pressed against her breasts, beads of water glittered across her cleavage. Roman couldn't help but steal a glance. "I'm done being bossed around by you clowns. I got somewhere to be, so if you'll excuse me." She proceeded to close the door in his face, but he held his hand out to stop it.

"Lola I don't got time for games. Get your shit and get your ass in my car."

"Who is playing games, Roman? I sure ain't." She stepped back and let go of the door. "I'm not about to let you make me late."

He stepped into her studio, and was immediately distracted by the pile of takeout containers unceremoniously gathered in the middle of her dusty floor. He was immediately reminded of their time living together. They bickered constantly, she never cleaned up after herself, and yet, he still felt a sense of longing for the days they would argue over messes.

"Late for what?"

"A date." She called from the bathroom as she wriggled into a tiny beige dress and painted her face in makeup.

"A _what?"_ Roman spat, as if he'd never heard the word before.

"A date." She enunciated "What? You think love stopped after Roman?"

"Is this a real date? Or an escort thing?"

Her makeup brushes clattered into the sink, as her fingers lapsed momentarily.

 _How the hell did he know?_

"None of yo god damn business." She muttered.

He appeared beside her in the doorway of her bathroom. His large, inked arms crossed over his broad chest as he stared down at her.

"Seth told me." He pursed his lips, pondering his next choice of words. "You're better than that Lo, come on. Come back home. I'll take care of you."

Lola's gaze met her ex's and suddenly she felt warm again, she felt safe. Those weeks of cold, chilling indifference never existed. Roman's eyes held home.

 _2 Years Prior_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

Lola had spent all of 2 weeks in Los Angeles, and had yet to find a place of her own in the time she had begun to work at the Shield. She was making amazing money, but with her terrible budgeting and spending, she was struggling to save more than 50 dollars of the thousands she had made.

She heard her mother's chastising voice in her head more and more often as the week drew to a close. It was an unwelcome ghost in her flurry of late nights and stripteases. She couldn't escape her late mother's voice though, Etta Blanc was right:

 _You ain't no charity case. I ain't raise you to live up under no man yo whole life._

The phantom of guilt weighed heavily on Lola's shoulders. She had to get her own place, Roman was being way too nice letting her stay that long without asking for a penny of rent.

It was the middle of the night when Lola woke from her sleep, covered in sweat and shaking. A scream was caught in her throat. She had stared into her mother's disappointed eyes in a nightmare she barely remembered. Lola wasn't religious, but she knew a sign when she saw one. She had to get out, this isn't what her mother wanted.

In a scramble, she fell out of her bed and began to collect her belongings from around Roman's room. He had let her sleep in his room while he slept on the couch in his living room. The two argued about it when she first arrived, but in the end the large man won. She resigned to his King size bed, and he cramped himself onto the small leather couch.

Her fingers trembled, and her breathing became labored. The rhythmic thumping in her chest crept to her ears and temples as she continued to collect her clothes and makeup. She threw them haphazardly onto the open suitcase at the foot of her bed. Panic coursed through her.

"Lo?" His deep voice was soft in the darkness. He stood in the threshold to his room, his hair messily falling from his usually-perfect bun.

A startled yelp escaped her lips as her makeup fell to the floor in a series of clattering. She only saw his silhouette in the darkness, but something in her snapped. She collapsed to the floor and felt the sting of tears threatening to spill over. She knew they wouldn't fall though, she never cries.

"Shit!" He seethed, turning on the light and quickly gathering the shaking woman in his arms. She trembled violently, fighting the urge to scream.

"What's wrong honey? What can I do?" He cooed in her ear, stroking her sweat-dampened coils.

"I have to go. I can't be here."

His grip around her tightened.

"Why's that?" He asked her as if he already knew her answer.

"My ma." Her voice cracked.

 _Was it just hitting her now?_

She didn't have to say anything else. Roman knew that her mother passed only a few days before she decided to move to LA. They never talked about it, but he knew she would have to let something out soon.

"I know, baby, I know." His chest rumbled, sending soothing vibrations all around her. She felt so small and safe in his arms. "I got you."

"No." Her voice was weak. "She don't want me here. I know she don't. I should go back home."

"Caroline."

"I'll pay you back for letting me stay. I just got to go."

"Caroline." He pulled away, cupping her face his large hands. His gentle eyes took in the panic on her face, wishing nothing more than to absorb it all in one stare. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

"But-"

"But nothing. I don't care about rent. I don't care about money. I'm good." A slow smile stretched his lips. "Only thing I'm concerned about right now is you. Don't worry about shit. I'll take care of you."

He lifted her effortlessly and laid her gently on the bed, before tucking her in under the sheets. He carefully climbed into bed with her, being sure to stay above the covers.

It was the first night she slept soundly without the ghost of her mother's voice haunting her.

She felt the soft press of a kiss on her sweat-slicked forehead that night as she drifted to sleep. She could never remember if that was a pleasant dream or reality.

Either way, it was the safest she ever felt in her life.

 _Present Day_

 _Los Angeles, CA_

"Listen, Lo. I can't force you to do anything. But…" He let out a sigh "I need you home. Just get your shit and lets go. Stop playin' around."

Memories from the first night they slept in the same bed flooded her senses. She practically melted looking into the eyes of the man she still loved. Her lips parted to form the word 'yes'.

Her phone snapped her out of her trance. She glanced down at the screen to see her date had texted her:

 _Room 703._

She cursed under her breath when she saw she only had 10 minutes to get to the hotel. She quickly ordered an uber and felt relief when she saw her driver was one minute away.

"Caroline. Come on, that ain't a real date." He said glancing down at the text "Do you even know the guy?"

"Yeah. I do. And I'm about to be late. So if you don't mind." She threw her phone in her purse and brushed past him.

"Lo!" He called, quickly trailing her as she strutted out of the apartment and down the stairs. "Please, just stop!"

She ignored him as she flagged down her uber and ducked into the car.

He left out a rough sigh as he watched her drive away. A terrible feeling settled deep in his stomach as the car disappeared over the horizon.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Brandi Rhodes paced back and forth in her bedroom, her silken gown trailed behind her. In the light of midmorning her slender silhouette casted through the blue fabric. Her sleep was abruptly interrupted when her husband, Cody scrambled out of bed in a hurry. He wouldn't tell Brandi why he was in such a rush, or where he was even going. But she assumed all the answers she wanted were staunchly in the dark walls of the Bullet Club. He barely pressed his lips to her forehead as he jostled one of his signature suits onto his body and shot out of the door.

This was not out of the ordinary for the couple. He barely let her know what was going on with his club and she stayed blissfully unaware. The dynamic worked well. Until of course Brandi was graciously given a small glimpse into his dark world. Ever since meeting his rival club's owner, she couldn't help but think of the next time she would be able to play the role of a pregnant, down-on-her-luck cocktail waitress. Cody hadn't told her when her next sleuthing session would be, but her anxiety was causing her to wish it sooner, much sooner.

She stared down at her phone, staring at Roman's name in her contacts, biting her lip. Maybe she should call and ask when her first shift should be.

Brandi's thumb hovered over the call button, only for her to shake her head and put her phone down on her cluttered vanity. She felt the familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach, the dread of spending yet another day with the local housewives of her gated community. She could practically hear the click-clacking of heels on someone's cold marble foyer floor, the intoxicatingly sweet aroma of prosecco and overpriced candles. She couldn't bare to do it for millionth time.

Not today.

She grinned as she grabbed her phone and sashayed to her closet.

* * *

Lola cursed under her breath as she practically ran through the marble lobby of the Hotel Lafayette. Her uber driver took the long way to the hotel, despite her protestations to take another route. On top of that, the friction of her thighs beneath her tight dress was beginning to cause a serious chafe. With every step she felt the unmistakable sting of skin-on-skin.

She rushed into a departing elevator despite the fire in her thighs.

"Seventh Floor, please" She huffed to the doorman. The elderly man simply nodded and pressed the button, the two of them waited in silence.

When Lola reached her floor she practically fell out, slightly limping as she made her way down the hall. Her eyes scanned the ornate golden placards beside each door.

713\. 713. 713.

After turning a corner, she found the room had its own corridor. The long dimly lit hallway led to one ominous oak door with the golden plated 713 squarely in the center of it.

Lola wondered briefly why the room was so set apart from all the others, and if this was intentional. Nonetheless she found her weary legs moving closer and closer to the threshold. It was her first escorting gig, after all. It would only be bad luck if she turned back on a bad feeling.

She took a moment to take a deep breath and smooth her hands over her dress and hair. She couldn't let her first customer know she was frazzled about being late. She had to establish some equal footing in the relationship before things went south. Raising a fist to the door, she began to knock.

Not even a moment later, the door opened. In a flurry, Lola was propelled through the door and into the room, landing briskly on her knees in the center of a dark living room before a familiar man in a large leather chair.

It was _him._ The man from the diner that knew her mother. The one she had been searching for in vain on police report websites. There he was, sitting before her so casually as if he were meeting a long-time friend.

It took Lola a moment to realize that she was surrounded by a group of men, and that her only escape to the exit was strategically blocked.

Immediately she knew that Roman, Seth and Dean had been scared of this exact thing happening, they knew that the stranger from the diner was going to take her, hurt her, kill her.

She launched herself toward the door and let out a loud growl that dwindled into a cry for help when the men easily restrained her and pushed her back into the center of the circle they had created.

"Oh please, Caroline. Really. Don't be so dramatic." The main man in the leather chair drawled behind her.

Lola's gaze snapped to his, and suddenly she felt a rush of fear and hate pulsing through her. She hated his self-satisfied smirk, the lazy and unaffected way he laid back in his chair, and especially the way he let her birth name roll off his tongue.

"Who the fuck are you? And what do you want?" She growled through clenched teeth. Crescents of pain shot through her palms as her nails dug into them. Lola knew she had to stay calm to think straight. She had to get out of there alive.

"Oh god, where are my manners?" Kenny quickly stood up from his chair and suddenly had the posture of a perfect gentlemen. He cooly buttoned his dark sport coat before smoothing it out and offering his hand for a shake. "I'm Kenny Omega."

Lola spat and slapped his hand away.

"But you already knew that, didn't you?" Without missing a beat, his hand retreated to his pocket.

"No, I didn't. All I know is you a stalker and you going to jail the second I get outta here." Her eyes scanned the room for any sign of another exit. She heard her heart pounding in her ears.

"Stalker is a bit strong of a word, don't you think Caroline?"

Lola screamed for help again, causing the men around her to flinch at the high octaves she reached.

"Theres no use, you banshee, the room's sound proof. No one's above us, or next to us. No one can hear you." One of the men behind Lola spoke with a slight lisp.

"He's right Caroline. The only thing you'll achieve by screaming like that is giving me a headache. And you won't like me when I'm cranky." Kenny turned to sit down in his chair again. "Kidnapping tropes and pleasantries aside, I'd like to get to the bottom of this as quickly and painlessly as possible. So Matt, Nick, mind getting our guest a nice chair to sit in?"

Two strikingly similar men broke from the circle, one held Lola by the arms while the other pressed a chair into the backs of her knees. The force of the chair forced her body to buckle at the knees, and straight into the chair. Lola's heart thudded in her ears as she tried to make sense of her surroundings, searching for eye contact from the two men tying her hands to the chair. Her gaze was pleading, but the dark-haired cronies avoided her eyes, and tightened the rope around her wrists.

She yelped in pain as the final knot strangled her limbs.

"Not so tight, Bucks. Our guest needs to be _comfortably_ restrained." Kenny cooed.

The bearded one loosened each knot slightly, allowing Lola a little relief. Lola's thoughts only further blurred as she tried to make sense of Kenny and the entire situation. Why were there so many men around her? Why was Kenny insistent on her comfort? Why was he so calm?

 _Maybe he's done this before. Maybe they ain't trying to kill me yet…_

"Listen, I'll stay quiet. I'll forget anything ever happened. Please, just let me go!" Her voice cracked as she pleaded with Kenny. His cheerful, relaxed gaze met her frantic pleading one.

"That would be ideal. But unfortunately, I can't do that."

"Why not? Please! I swear, I don't want no trouble. Please. Please.."

"No can do." Kenny quipped. "Lets just get right to it, shall we?" He crouched forward in his chair, the creaking of leather cut through the sounds of Lola's labored breath.

"Where's your father?"

"The fuck?" She shrieked hysterically. The shock of the question left her mind reeling even further. She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

Kenny remained unfazed, and only leaned in closer to her, never breaking eye contact. Lola noticed his eyes were a shade of blue that would have been considered beautiful in any other situation, but were unsettling at that moment.

"Your father? Where is he? Tell us now and we won't kill you."

Like a well-rehearsed movie scene, Lola heard the sound of two guns cocking right beside her ears.

Each click was deafening, making her blood temperature drop, and beads of sweat appear across her forehead. Her mind quickly responded to the unmistakable sounds of a certain end.

"He- He's dead. I think you got the wrong girl."

It was clear to her that they _did_ have the wrong girl. After all, she didn't have a father. Her mother made it clear to her that the man had died well before she could form any memories of him.

"No, no no. Caroline." He pressed forward, his breath grazed her ear. The heat of his breath warmed the cold, gooseflesh. "You've got two, fully-loaded Berettas aimed at your pretty little head and you are going to tell me that your very-much-alive father is dead? And that _you_ are not Caroline Blanc?"

Bile threatened to creep up Lola's throat. He didn't believe her. She decided to speak very slowly, hoping in vain that she would be able to convince him of the truth.

"I _am_ Caroline Blanc. But my father passed away when I was four. I swear on everything, you got the wrong girl."

Kenny pulled away from Lola, flinching as if he'd been burnt from the words she spoke. It was the first break in his cool facade that Lola had seen. He was truly puzzled, giving Lola a strange look, searching for some answer Lola couldn't have had.

"What's the problem, Kenny?" A strong Britsh accent came from behind Lola.

"She's telling the truth." He replied, barely above a whisper.

"Oh, _bullshit_." The man with the lisp spoke up this time, incensed. "She's clearly lying. You told us yourself, there's no way this isn't his daughter."

Lola heard quick footsteps approach her, and then in an instant, pain searing through her scalp and neck as the man yanked her by her hair and pulled her neck back. She couldn't help but let out a pained scream.

"Tell us where he is, we can torture you all night, theres six of us. We're used to taking shifts, sweetie." He spat, his eyes wild with rage.

"Let her go. God damn it!" Kenny snapped, pushing up from his chair and swatting the man's body away from Lola. "She's telling the truth!"

The other men surrounding Lola seemed to hold their breath in anticipation of what was to come next.

"Go." Kenny commanded, now locking his eyes on Lola's assailant. "All of you. Get out of here."

"What do you mean, ' _Go_ '?" The lisped man snapped back at Kenny. " You woke us all up at the crack of dawn to come down here and help out with some mysterious task of kidnapping and torturing some bitch. Now, suddenly you've had a change of heart and we have to leave at the snap of your fingers? _Fuck that."_

Kenny only grinned in response.

"Come on man, let's just cool down and get out of here." Another man spoke.

 _Why on earth do they need six men to kill one me?_

"No. This imbecile has been running the club straight into the ground. Dumb shit like this keeps us from doing our jobs."

"Bucks, I trust you two will make sure Cody gets home safe and sound. Don't forget his bottle and blankie. It's been a long night for the poor boy."

"You son of a-" Lola couldn't see, but the man's voice was muffled. Sounds of struggle sounded behind her before the door closed and the room was nearly silent again.

The same satisfied grin stayed plastered on Kenny's lips as he returned his attention to Lola again. Something in his eyes told her he wasn't going to let her go. Not yet at least.

"For the record, I do believe that you _think_ your father is dead and has been for a long time now. But I _know_ for a fact that that is a lie." He sat back down in his chair, and crossed his legs. He sat casually, as if he hadn't just threatened her life moments before. "Your father, Richard Flair is alive and well. Your mother, Etta Blanc, lied to you about it for years."


	13. Chapter 13

The three managers of the Shield stood in the dingy office of their club, texting and calling incessantly, desperate to get an answer from Lola.

"So you just _let her go_? Are you fucking insane?!" Seth's voice took on an uncharacteristic base as he interrogated Roman. He stood before the corkboard desk, hands on his hips as he took on the stance of an angry father.

" _Please_ tell me you know where she went." Dean's voice drawled as he buried his face in his hands. He took his usual perch on the end of the ratty office couch.

"What the fuck do you want from me? She stormed off before I could do anything!" Roman snapped, connecting in a heated gaze with Seth.

"She's 5'8 and weighs less than your bicep, you're going to tell me that you couldn't grab her, block the door, throw her into a shopping bag and bring her here?" Dean's tired eyes emerged from his hands.

"Oh yeah, like she wouldn't make a fucking scene. Have you ever heard Lola scream?"

"Yeah, I have actually. She has a thing for biting too." Seth quipped, knowing he would get a guaranteed rise from Roman. Dean kicked Seth, earning a yelp from him.

"Don't fucking start. We need to find her, fast. Kenny and his boys are out there looking for her, no doubt. If they get to her before we do, then Ric will have our heads. We had two jobs, run this place and keep her out of sight. We can barely keep the lights on here, so we better find her and get her to leave LA for good." Dean stood from his perch, now taking the role of angry paternal figure.

"Leave LA?" Seth echoed in disgust.

"For good?" Roman followed suit.

"Yeah, numbnuts. Leave LA, for good. Ric had us bring her out here to keep her safe, and now she isn't. It only makes sense to get her out of the line of fire."

There was a palpable silence in the room while the three men thought.

"I'll take her back home. Shit barely happens out in Davenport." Seth spoke, assured in his decision.

"You have no money. What makes you think she'll up and move to Iowa with you? She came out here because she _fell for me_ , and I was able to _provide_. Only thing you can give her is gambling debt and a limp dick." It was Roman's turn to provoke Seth.

"Enough!" Dean boomed. "We need to find her. Now. Split up and keep your guns close. Seth, you stay near her place, since you don't have a ride. I'll take Downtown and Echo Park, Roman you take West Hollywood and the Hills."

With one swift motion he grabbed Seth by his hoodie and shoved him to the door. His patience was wearing thin with the bickering men, but he made sure there was little time for them to pick up their back-and-forth again.

Seth stumbled to the door and quickly regained his footing before opening it. He lost his composure as soon as the door revealed a beautiful black woman in an outfit that was certainly too classy for their run down establishment.

"Who the fuck are you?" Seth couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. Rudeness be damned, no one should be in the club, it had been closed for days now.

The woman's sculpted brows arched in surprise, and suddenly Seth felt like he had cursed in front of the Queen.

"I'm Brandi." She extended her dainty hand for a handshake, which Seth sheepishly took. " I'm here to speak with Roman? I have an appointment with him."

Seth's brows raised in surprise this time, he turned to look at Roman, who had now stood from his desk. Dean didn't seem nearly as interested in the mystery visitor.

"By all means, Brandi." Seth mocked a bow and allowed the small woman to enter the office.

"Come on, man, we got shit to do. Take care of this later." Dean waved his hand impatiently.

"I'll catch up with you guys in a bit. This won't take long." Roman called, his gaze landing on Brandi. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, it felt like he hadn't genuinely done that in days.

Dean huffed and continued to push Seth out of the office before slamming the flimsy door behind him.

Brandi grinned mischievously, and cast Roman a flirtatious look from her thick lashes.

"An _appointment_ with me? _Really_?" Roman chuckled, shaking his head and taking his seat again behind the desk.

"I just said what came to my mind. The guy looked like he was about to shoo me away." She shrugged and took a seat in front of the desk.

"Smart girl." He leaned back and kicked his feet onto the desk. "So what is this emergency appointment all about? I wasn't expecting you."

"Well, last time we spoke, you promised to give me a ring for my first shift. It's been a while and I still haven't heard a single thing from you."

"The club's been closed for the last few days. Things have been a bit hectic."

"Yeah, I can tell." Brandi's gaze traveled around the office. "You look stressed."

Roman choked out a chuckle. "That's the understatement of the year."

Brandi pursed her lips, briefly pausing before scooting closer to him and the desk. "Well, I know you don't have any cocktail waitressing work for me as long as the club's closed. But maybe I can help out in some other way? It seemed really tense when those guys were here… There has to be something I can do to alleviate the stress."

Roman's gaze locked with Brandi's, and his sudden rush of thoughts made him readjust his suddenly tight pants discreetly as his feet descended from the desk. He cleared his throat, hoping to clear his mind in the process.

"I appreciate it Brandi, really, I do. I just don't know if there's anything you can really help out with. It's complicated."

"Well I got time, tell me what's ailing the great Shield." Her sweet-as-honey smile spread across her face as she leaned forward even more.

Roman laughed, his deep voice wavering more than usual. He suddenly felt the room shrink around him, he became hyper-aware that it was only him and Brandi alone. The woman was hypnotic and suffocating all at once.

"I really shouldn't say." He knew the moment the words left his lips, he was done for.

"Come on, Roman. I won't tell a soul. Scout's honor." She held up her hand with the scout's salute.

He sighed heavily. "Alright… Well, you know Ric. So you must know that this isn't _just_ a strip club. We've got a bit of a shady history, which welcomes some shady enemies …" He trailed off and broke his gaze, beginning to twiddle his thumbs. He was unsure of how to proceed. " Anyways, one of our girls have probably gone missing. And we're pretty sure our enemies may have something to do with it."

He was careful not to let on too much information, but Brandi caught on without missing a beat.

" _Probably_ gone missing?"

"Well, that's what we're stressed out about. We're about 99% sure that she's missing, and 99% sure that our rivals have something to do with it."

"Call the police?"

Roman chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Remember the part where I said we'e got a bit of shady history?"

"Riiiight… Right." She nodded slowly. " Maybe I can help you guys find her?"

"I couldn't bother you with that—"

"You aren't bothering me if I offer." She countered cooly. "What does she look like?"

Roman pressed his lips into a paper-thin line. He fought briefly with the thoughts in his head. He shouldn't be dragging her into this. She doesn't need to know anything about Lola, especially his past with her. Despite his rationale, her cheerful face practically guilted him into it.

Before he knew it, Roman was roping Brandi into the mess he created.

Bile pressed by Lola's threshold, her stomach pinched every drop of acid out of her stomach and onto herself and the floor before her. The warmth and putrid stench of her own vomit made her dry heave more. Nothing came up, but she was repulsed with the news she just heard from her captor.

She didn't want to believe Kenny. There was no way she could deny the strange series of events leading up to that moment. Why else would he know her mother's name?

 _Who is this man, and what the fuck does he want?_

"Yikes. Too soon to drop that bombshell on you huh?" Kenny only took a modest step backward when she began to vomit. She could barely lift her head up to see his expression, but she was certain he was not fazed in the least.

"Sorry to tell you at such an inopportune time, but with a possible coup underway, and those pesky Shield boys on their way to wreak havoc, I figured we'd cut to the chase here." He crouched into her line of sight, dabbing her slick lips with a handkerchief. His movements were not tender, but calculating and precise. "I have to admit, I was bluffing. I have no way of knowing what you know about your own father. But given your lovely display of vomit when I told you the truth, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you proved me right. You literally knew nothing of your father until this moment. My condolences. But to be fair, the man is the epitome of a sleazy gangster. Your mother, when she _was_ in the business was a gem, I really wish I were around while she were running things around here."

Lola's head was spinning. She didn't know if it was because of the rush of information, or the violent convulsions from her stomach.

"How do you…" Hiccup. "How do you know -"

"Your mother? Oh, it's a story much better suited for the road." He quickly untied her hand's restraints, and just as quickly clasped one large hand over both of her wrists. With a dizzying dexterity, he hogtied her hands together in a make-shift hand cuff. He pulled her up by her wrists and dragged her to the ornate restroom.

Lola almost forgot that she was in a luxury hotel. Her life of being an escort got turned completely on its head in a matter of an hour, now she struggled to wrap her head around the fact that her father was alive and not only that, the former owner of the strip club she had been working at for over 2 years. Her stomach clenched in response to the thought.

"Alright, hands up." Kenny commanded, his fingers slid under the edge of her dress.

"No!" Lola screamed, beginning to wildly thrash against the man, kicking and using her bound hands to whack at him. "Help! Somebody hel-"

Kenny's large hand clasped over her mouth before he squatted low and threw the woman over his shoulder. She writhed against him, terrified of what may come next.

"I'm not a pig. You vomited all over your nice dress, and unless you'd like to ride around in that for hours, I suggest you let me take it off and get you into a nice robe." He spoke calmly against her muffled screams for help.

She slowly stopped writhing in his grip, realizing that he may actually mean no harm. Once she stopped, he let her down gently and motioned for her to raise her hands above her head. She did so reluctantly, while he peeled the skin-tight dress off of her, and let it drop to the floor. She stood before him in a matching red set of lingerie. If she knew her fate that day, she wouldn't have dressed so nicely for the occasion.

Kenny seemed completely unfazed by the lace and silk, however, and tossed her dress aside in disgust. He peeled off his own vomit-stained shirt, revealing his broad, chiseled torso. It clearly wasn't a show for Lola, because he just as quickly produced two robes, tying one around himself, and draping one around Lola.

"Where are we going?" Her voice was hoarse.

"I'm not entirely sure yet. We just need to get out of LA. I have a feeling a lot of people are going to take a sudden interest in your whereabouts, and I say we have an hour or two before shit starts getting messy." His intense gaze held hers.

She was trembling, unable to take in what was happening, and why. Of all possible kidnapping scenarios, Lola never would have guessed her captor would leave her wondering if he was even the bad guy here.

"What do you want with me?"

"Ah, yet another question best left for the road." He grinned. Nothing was sinister about the way he spoke, unlike what Lola expected from him.

He gently nudged her to the door of the room, before pausing and closing the gap between them. His warm breath brushed past her ear as he held her waist firmly with one hand.

"Sorry about this. If you're good I'll only ever have to do this once."

Lola opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he meant, but before she could utter a word, she felt the unmistakable pinch of a needle piercing flesh. Her arm became heavy, and soon her legs were unable to support the weigh of her world around her. Spinning and descending, Lola's vision fluttered in and out of pitch black. The only thought that she could manage through the thick sludge of her mind was

"Fuck"


End file.
